THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 

JIM  TULLY 

GIFT  OF 
MRS.  JIM  TULLY 


THE   WORKS   OF 
WILLIAM  MAKEPEACE   THACKERAY 


CORNHILL    EDITION 
VOLUME    VIII 


r:. 


Portrait  of  Thackeray. 

From  (I  photograph  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  James  T.  Fields. 
Reproduced  by  permission 


THE  VIRGINIANS 


A  TALE  OF  THE  LAST  CENTUm 


■wv 


BY 


WILLIAM  Mi\  KEPEAc  ) 


RAY 


WITH  THE  AI:TH0R'S 


VOLUME    I 


■% 


VI 


.mm: 


NEW   YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIUNER'S  SONS 

1011 


pp  V  < 


Copyright,  1904,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


PR 

Al 


^ 


NOTE 

In  the  spring  of  1856  Thackeray  returned  from  a 
second  visit  to  America,  where  this  time  he  had  delivered 
the  lectures  on  the  Four  Georges;  and  for  more  than 
a  year  after  his  return  undertook  no  important  work. 
The  interval  was  partly  occupied  with  repeating  the 
lectures  in  England  and  Scotland,  and  with  political 
plans,  ending  in  July,  1857,  with  his  unsuccessful  can- 
didacy for  a  seat  in  Parliament  for  Oxford.  There  are 
traces  in  his  letters  of  depression  over  his  silence :  "  Shall 
I  ever  write  a  book  again?  Some  day,  please  God,  when 
these  astonishing  Georges  have  put  a  few  thousands 
more  into  my  pocket"  (January,  1857).  "Just  when 
the  novel-writing  faculty  is  pretty  well  used  up,"  etc. 
(February).  But  after  the  election  was  over  he  began 
with  an  apparent  revival  of  cheerfulness  the  actual  writ- 
ing of  The  Virginians,  the  conception  of  which  dated 
from  his  American  visit.  It  was  a  book  to  appear  first 
in  the  old  form  in  numbers,  extending  over  two  years 
(November,  1857,  to  Octolier,  1859),  and  with  the  old 
Bradbury  &  Evans  imjDrint;  later  to  take  permanent 
shape  in  volumes  with  Smith,  Elder  &  Company. 

Of  the  history  of  its  writing  (chiefly  in  his  house  in 

V 

8331 89 


Onslow  Square,  though  one  or  two  of  the  later  numbers 
were  written  during  little  journeys  with  his  daughters 
on  the  Continent)  we  have  fewer  details,  and  these  of 
less  interest,  than  in  the  case  of  the  earlier  books.  Mr. 
Motley  tells  in  his  Letters  of  finding  Thackeray  in  the 
British  Museum  working  on  one  of  his  numbers ;  and  a 
comment  which  he  makes  shows  that  to  him,  as  to  so 
many  others,  the  habit  of  writing  just  behind  the  presses 
— number  by  number,  on  a  novel  already  publishing,  as 
Thackeray  and  Dickens  did — seemed  a  torturing  pro- 
cess. Lady  Ritchie  has  printed  some  fragments  from 
her  father's  note- books,  but  they  show  only  the  collec- 
tion of  historical  details ;  and  in  such  letters  as  we  have 
of  his  at  this  time  there  are  comparatively  few  of  those 
allusions  to  the  work  in  hand  which  bring  us  so  near 
to  others  of  the  novels. 

The  portrait  used  as  the  frontispiece  is  from  a  photo- 
graph taken  in  1852  and  now  in  the  possession  of  Mrs. 
James  T.  Fields,  by  whose  kind  permission  it  is  repro- 
duced for  this  edition.  It  is  noteworthy  in  the  biblio- 
graphical history  of  The  Virginians  that  it  was  the 
last  of  his  novels  illustrated  throughout  by  Thackeray 
himself;  and  one  of  his  best-known  drawings  is  made 
the  frontispiece  of  Volume  II.  The  original  title- 
pages  and  cover- design  of  the  numbers  are  given,  as 
in  previous  cases,  after  this  note. 


VI 


[Facsimile  of  the  Cover-design  of  the  Original  N'um,h6rs.\ 


TO 

SIR   HENRY    DAVISON 

CHIEF    JUSTICE    OF    MADRAS 

THIS    BOOK    IS    INSCRIBED 

BY 

AN    AFFECTIONATE    OLD    FRIEND 


London,  September  7,  1859. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  In  which  One  of  the  Virginians  Visits  Home      .  1 

II  In  which  Harry  has  to  Pay  for  his  Supper  .     .  16 

ni  The  Esmonds  in  Virginia 33 

IV  In  which  Harry  Finds  a  New  Relative  ...  44 

V  Family  Jars 54 

VI  The  Virginians  begin  to  See  the  World  ...  72 

vn  Preparations  for  W^ar 83 

VIII  In  which  George  Suffers  from  a  Common  Dis- 
ease    96 

IX  Hospitalities 106 

X  A  Hot  Afternoon 123 

XI  Wherein  the  Two  Georges  Prepare  for  Blood  .  140 

xn  News  from  the  Camp 149 

xni  Profitless  Quest 161 

XIV  Harry  in  England 174 

XV  A  Sunday  at  Castlewood 184 

XVI  In  which  Gumbo   Shows  Skill  with  the  Old 

English  Weapon 198 

xvii  On  the  Scent        213 

xvin  An  Old  Story 225 

XV 


xvi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX  Containing  both  Love  and  Luck 238 

XX  Facilis  Descensus 247 

XXI  Samaritans 267 

XXII  In  Hospital 278 

XXIII  Holidays 294< 

XXIV  From  Oakhurst  to  Tunbridge 305 

XXV  New  Acquaintances 319 

XXVI  In  which  We  are  at  a  Very  Great  Distance 

FROM  Oakhurst 332 

XXVII  Plenum  Opus  Ale^ 349 

xxvui  The  Way  of  the  World 360 

XXIX  In  WHICH  Harry  Continues  to  Enjoy  Otium 

sine  Dignitate 372 

XXX  Contains  a  Letter  to  Virginia 378 

XXXI  The  Bear  and  the  Leader     .      .      .      .      .      .      .  391 

xxxii  In  which  A  Family  Coach  IS  Ordered  .      .      .      .  410 

XXXIII  Contains  a  Soliloquy  by  Hester 425 

xxxiv  In  which  Mr.  Warrington  Treats  the  Com- 
pany WITH  Tea  and  a  Ball 437 

xxxv  Entanglements        453 

XXXVI  Which  Seems  to  Mean  Mischief 467 

xxxvn  In  which  Various  Matches  are  Fought  .     .     .  481 

xxxvni  Sampson  and  the  Philistines 492 

XXXIX  Harry  to  the  Rescue 506 

XL  In  which  Harry  Pays  Off  an  Old  Debt,  and 

Incurs  Some  New  Ones 618 


CONTENTS  xvii 

CHAPTEB.  PAGK 

XLi  Rake's  Progress 533 

XLII    FORTUNATUS   NiMIUM 545 

XLiii  In  which  Harry  Flies  High 556 

XLiv  Contains  what  Might,  Perhaps,  Have  Been 

Expected 569 

XLV  In  which  Harry  Finds  Two  Uncles    ....  586 

XLvi  Chains  and  Slavery 596 

xLvii  Visitors  in  Trouble 616 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PoRTKAiT  OF  Th  ACKER  AY Frontispiece 

From  a  photograph  in  the  possession  of  Mrs.  James  T.  Fields.    Repro- 
_,,».  duced  by  permission. 

FaC-SIMILE      OF      THE      CoVER-DESIGN      OF      THE      ORIGINAL 

Numbers ,       vii 

Fac-similes  of  the  Original  Volume  Title-pages  .     .    ix,  xi 


FACINQ  PAGE 

A  Welcome  to  Old  England 18 

The  Family  Pew 68 

The  Tutor  in  Trouble 68 

A  Stepfather  in  Prospect 122 

George's  Secretary  at  War 140 

The  Wilderness 160 

A  Dancing  Lesson 178 

Gumbo  Astonishes  the  Servants'  Hall 204 

Gather  ye  Rosebuds  while  ye  may 226 

A  Ministering  Angel 234 

Welcome        268 

Farewell 306 

The  "  Dictionary  Maker  " 340 

The  Ruling  Passion 360 

xiz 


XX  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING  PAGE 

Preaching  and  Practice 372 

A  Lay  Sermon 424 

A  Vice-Queen 450 

A  Rencontre  in  Fleet  Street 478 

Bad  News  from  Tunbridge 490 

A  Fainting  Fit 500 

Harry  is  presented  to  a  Great  Personage     ....  558 

A  Pair  of  Old  Acquaintances 594 


>^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS 


^^ 


CHAPTER  I 


IN   WHICH   ONE   OF   THE   VIRGINIANS   VISITS   HOME 

N  the  library  wall  of  one  of  the 
most  famous  writers  of  Amer- 
ica, there  hang  two  crossed 
swords,  which  his  relatives 
wore  in  the  great  War  of 
Independence.  The  one 
sword  was  gallantly  drawn 
in  the  service  of  the  king, 
the  other  was  the  weapon  of 
a  brave  and  honoured  re- 
publican soldier.  The  pos- 
sessor of  the  harmless  tro- 
phy has  earned  for  himself  a 
name  alike  honoured  in  his 
ancestors'  country  and  his 
own,  where  genius  such  as 
his  has  always  a  peaceful  welcome. 

The  ensuing  history  reminds  me  of  yonder  swords  in 
the  historian's  study  at  Boston.  In  the  Revolutionary 
War,  the  subjects  of  this  story,  natives  of  America,  and 
children  of  the  Old  Dominion,  found  themselves  en- 
gaged on  different  sides  in  the  quarrel,  coming  together 
peaceably  at  its  conclusion,  as  brethren  should,  their  love 
never  having  materially  diminished,  however  angrily  the 


2  THE  VIRGIXIANS 

contest  divided  them.  The  colonel  in  scarlet,  and  the 
general  in  blue  and  buff,  hang  side  by  side  in  the  wain- 
scoted parlour  of  the  Warringtons,  in  England,  where  a 
descendant  of  one  of  the  brothers  has  shown  their  por- 
traits to  me,  with  many  of  the  letters  which  they  wrote, 
and  the  books  and  papers  which  belonged  to  them.  In 
the  Warrington  family,  and  to  distinguish  them  from 
other  personages  of  that  respectable  race,  these  effigies 
have  always  gone  by  the  name  of  "  The  Virginians;  "  by 
which  name  their  memoirs  are  christened. 

They  both  of  them  passed  much  time  in  Europe. 
They  lived  just  on  the  verge  of  that  Old  World  from 
which  we  are  drifting  away  so  swiftly.  They  were 
familiar  with  many  varieties  of  men  and  fortune.  Their 
lot  brought  them  into  contact  with  personages  of  whom 
we  read  only  in  books,  who  seem  alive,  as  I  read  in  the 
Virginians'  letters  regarding  them,  whose  voices  I  al- 
most fancy  I  hear,  as  I  read  the  yellow  pages  written 
scores  of  years  since,  blotted  with  the  boyish  tears  of 
disappointed  passion,  dutifully  despatched  after  famous 
balls  and  ceremonies  of  the  grand  Old  World,  scribbled 
by  camp-fires,  or  out  of  prison:  nay,  there  is  one  that 
has  a  bullet  through  it,  and  of  which  a  greater  portion  of 
the  text  is  blotted  out  with  the  blood  of  the  bearer. 

These  letters  had  probably  never  been  preserved,  but 
for  the  affectionate  thrift  of  one  person,  to  whom  they 
never  failed  in  their  dutiful  correspondence.  Their 
mother  kept  all  her  sons'  letters,  from  the  very  first,  in 
which  Henry,  the  younger  of  the  twins,  sends  his  love 
to  his  brother,  then  ill  of  a  sprain  at  his  grandfather's 
house  of  Castlewood,  in  Virginia,  and  thanks  his  grand- 
papa for  a  horse  which  he  rides  with  his  tutor,  down  to 
the  last,  "  from  my  beloved  son,"  which  reached  her  but 


THE  VIRGINIANS  3 

a  few  hours  before  her  death.  The  venerable  lady  never 
visited  Europe,  save  once  with  her  parents  in  the  reign 
of  George  the  Second;  took  refuge  in  Richmond  when 
the  house  of  Castlewood  was  burned  down  during  the 
.war;  and  was  called  Madam  Esmond  ever  after  that 
event;  never  caring  much  for  the  name  or  family  of 
Warrington,  which  she  held  in  very  slight  estimation  as 
compared  to  her  own. 

The  letters  of  the  Virginians,  as  the  reader  will  pres- 
ently see,  from  specimens  to  be  shown  to  him,  are  by  no 
means  full.  They  are  hints  rather  than  descriptions — 
indications  and  outlines  chiefly:  it  may  be,  that  the 
present  writer  has  mistaken  the  forms,  and  filled  in  the 
colour  wrongly :  but,  poring  over  the  documents,  I  have 
tried  to  imagine  the  situation  of  the  writer,  where  he  was, 
and  by  what  persons  surrounded.  I  have  drawn  the 
figures  as  I  fancied  they  were;  set  down  conversations 
as  I  think  I  might  have  heard  them ;  and  so,  to  the  best 
of  my  ability,  endeavoured  to  revivify  the  bygone  times 
and  people.  With  what  success  the  task  has  been  accom- 
plished, with  what  profit  or  amusement  to  himself,  the 
kind  reader  will  please  to  determine. 

One  summer  morning  in  the  year  1756,  and  in  the 
reign  of  his  Majesty  King  George  the  Second,  the 
"  Young  Rachel,"  Virginian  ship,  Edward  Franks  mas- 
ter, came  up  the  Avon  river  on  her  happy  return  from 
her  annual  voyage  to  the  Potomac.  She  proceeded  to 
Bristol  with  the  tide,  and  moored  in  the  stream  as  near 
as  possible  to  Trail's  wharf,  to  which  she  was  consigned. 
Mr.  Trail,  her  part  owner,  who  could  survey  his  ship 
from  his  counting-house  windows,  straightway  took  boat 
and  came  up  her  side.    The  owner  of  the  "  Young  Ra- 


4  THE  VIRGINIANS 

chel,"  a  large  grave  man  in  his  own  hair,  and  of  a  demure 
aspect,  gave  the  hand  of  welcome  to  Captain  Franks, 
who  stood  on  his  deck,  and  congratulated  the  captain 
upon  the  sj^eedy  and  fortunate  voyage  which  he  had 
made.  And  remarking  that  we  ought  to  be  thankful  to 
heaven  for  its  mercies,  he  proceeded  presently  to  busi- 
ness by  asking  particulars  relative  to  cargo  and  passen- 
gers. 

Franks  was  a  pleasant  man,  who  loved  a  joke.  "  We 
have,"  says  he,  "  but  yonder  ugly  negro  boy,  who  is  fetch- 
ing the  trunks,  and  a  passenger  who  has  the  state  cabin 
to  himself." 

Mr.  Trail  looked  as  if  he  would  have  preferred  more 
mercies  from  heaven.  "  Confound  you,  Franks,  and 
your  luck !  The  '  Duke  William,'  which  came  in  last 
week,  brought  fourteen,  and  she  is  not  half  of  our  ton- 
nage." 

"  And  this  passenger,  who  has  the  whole  cabin,  don't 
pay  nothin',"  continued  the  Captain.  "  Swear  now,  it 
will  do  you  good,  Mr.  Trail,  indeed  it  will.  I  have  tried 
the  medicine." 

"A  passenger  take  the  whole  cabin  and  not  pay? 
Gracious  mercy,  are  you  a  fool.  Captain  Franks?" 

"  Ask  the  passenger  himself,  for  here  he  comes."  And, 
as  the  master  spoke,  a  young  man  of  some  nineteen  years 
of  age  came  up  the  hatchway.  He  had  a  cloak  and  a 
sword  under  his  arm,  and  was  dressed  in  deep  mourning, 
and  called  out,  "  Gumbo,  you  idiot,  why  don't  you  fetch 
the  baggage  out  of  the  cabin?  Well,  shipmate,  our  jour- 
ney is  ended.  You  will  see  all  the  little  folks  to-night 
whom  you  have  been  talking  about.  Give  my  love  to 
Polly,  and  Betty,  and  Little  Tommy;  not  forgetting 
my  duty  to  Mrs.  Franks.     I  thought,  yesterday,  the 


THE  VIRGINIANS  5 

voyage  would  never  be  done,  and  now  I  am  almost  sorry 
it  is  over.  That  little  berth  in  my  cabin  looks  very  com- 
fortable now  I  am  going  to  leave  it." 

ISIr.  Trail  scowled  at  the  young  passenger  who  had 

::paid  no  money  for  his  passage.    He  scarcely  nodded  his 

head  to  the  stranger  when  Captain  Franks  said,  "  This 

here  gentleman  is  Mr.  Trail,  sir,  whose  name  you  have 

a-heerd  of." 

"  It's  pretty  well  known  in  Bristol,  sir,"  says  Mr. 
Trail,  majestically. 

"  And  this  is  Mr.  Warrington,  Madam  Esmond  War- 
rington's son,  of  Castlewood,"  continued  the  Captain. 

The  British  merchant's  hat  was  instantly  oif  his  head, 
and  the  owner  of  the  beaver  was  making  a  prodigious 
number  of  bows,  as  if  a  crown-prince  were  before  him. 

"  Gracious  powers,  Mr.  Warrington!  This  is  a  de- 
light, indeed!  What  a  crowning  mercy  that  your  voy- 
age should  have  been  so  prosperous!  You  must  have 
my  boat  to  go  on  shore.  Let  me  cordially  and  respect- 
fully welcome  you  to  England :  let  me  shake  your  hand 
as  the  son  of  my  benefactress  and  patroness,  Mrs.  Es- 
mond Warrington,  whose  name  is  known  and  honoured 
on  Bristol  'Change,  I  warrant  you.    Isn't  it,  Franks? " 

"  There's  no  sweeter  tobacco  comes  from  Virginia,  and 
no  better  brand  than  the  Three  Castles,"  says  Mr. 
Franks,  drawing  a  great  brass  tobacco-box  from  his 
pocket,  and  thrusting  a  quid  into  his  jolly  mouth.  "  You 
don't  know  what  a  comfort  it  is,  sir;  you'll  take  to  it, 
bless  you,  as  you  grow  older.  Won't  he,  Mr.  Trail?  I 
wish  you  had  ten  shiploads  of  it  instead  of  one.  You 
might  have  ten  shiploads:  I've  told  Madam  Esmond 
so;  I've  rode  over  her  ])lantation;  she  treats  me  like  a 
lord  when  I  go  to  the  house;   she  don't  grudge  me  the 


6  THE  VIRGINIANS 

best  of  wine,  or  keep  me  cooling  my  heels  in  the  count- 
ing-room, as  some  folks  does  "  (with  a  look  at  Mr. 
Trail) .  "  She  is  a  real-born  lady,  she  is ;  and  might  have 
a  thousand  hogsheads  as  easy  as  her  hundreds,  if  there 
were  but  hands  enough." 

"  I  have  lately  engaged  in  the  Guinea  trade,  and  could 
supply  her  ladyship  with  any  number  of  healthy  young 
negroes  before  next  fall,"  said  Mr.  Trail,  obsequiously. 

"  We  are  averse  to  the  purchase  of  negroes  from 
Africa,"  said  the  young  gentleman,  coldly.  "  My  grand- 
father and  my  mother  have  always  objected  to  it,  and  I 
do  not  like  to  think  of  selling  or  buying  the  poor 
wretches." 

"  It  is  for  their  good,  my  dear  young  sir!  for  their 
temporal  and  their  spiritual  good !  "  cried  Mr.  Trail. 
"  And  we  purchase  the  poor  creatures  only  for  their 
benefit;  let  me  talk  this  matter  over  with  you  at  my 
own  house.  I  can  introduce  you  to  a  happy  home,  a 
Christian  family,  and  a  British  merchant's  honest  fare. 
Can't  I,  Captain  Franks?  " 

"  Can't  say,"  growled  the  Captain.  "  Never  asked  me 
to  take  bite  or  sup  at  your  table.  Asked  me  to  psalm- 
singing  once  and  to  hear  Mr.  Ward  preach:  don't  care 
for  them  sort  of  entertainments." 

Not  choosing  to  take  any  notice  of  this  remark,  Mr. 
Trail  continued  in  his  low  tone :  "  Business  is  business, 
my  dear  young  sir,  and  I  know,  'tis  only  my  duty,  the 
duty  of  all  of  us,  to  cultivate  the  fruits  of  the  earth  in 
their  season.  As  the  heir  of  Lady  Esmond's  estate;  for 
I  speak,  I  believe,  to  the  heir  of  that  great  property? " 

The  young  gentleman  made  a  bow. 

"  I  would  urge  upon  you,  at  the  very  earliest  moment, 
the  propriety,  the  duty  of  increasing  the  ample  means 


THE  VIRGINIANS  7 

with  which  heaven  has  blessed  you.  As  an  honest  factor, 
I  could  not  do  otherwise:  as  a  prudent  man,  should  I 
scruple  to  speak  of  what  will  tend  to  your  profit  and 
mine?  No,  my  dear  Mr.  George." 
;^  "  My  name  is  not  George ;  my  name  is  Henry,"  said 
the  young  man  as  he  turned  his  head  away,  and  his  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"  Gracious  powers!  what  do  you  mean,  sir?  Did  you 
not  say  you  were  my  lady's  heir?  and  is  not  George  Es- 
mond Warrington,  Esq.—" 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  fool ! "  cried  Mr.  Franks, 
striking  the  merchant  a  tough  blow  on  his  sleek  sides, 
as  the  young  lad  turned  away.  "  Don't  you  see  the 
young  gentleman  a-swabbing  his  eyes,  and  note  his 
black  clothes? " 

"  What  do  you  mean.  Captain  Franks,  by  laying  your 
hand  on  your  owners  ?  Mr.  George  is  the  heir ;  I  know 
the  Colonel's  will  well  enough." 

"  Mr.  George  is  there,"  said  the  Captain,  pointing 
with  his  thumb  to  the  deck. 

"  Where?  "  cries  the  factor. 

"  Mr.  George  is  there!  "  reiterated  the  Captain,  again 
lifting  up  his  finger  towards  the  top-mast,  or  the  sky 
beyond.  "  He  is  dead  a  year,  sir,  come  next  9th  of 
JulJ^  He  would  go  out  with  General  Braddock  on  tliat 
dreadful  business  to  the  Belle  Riviere.  He  and  a  thou- 
sand more  never  came  back  again.  Every  man  of  them 
was  murdered  as  he  fell.  You  know  the  Indian  wa}^ 
Mr.  Trail?"  And  here  the  Captain  passed  his  hand 
rapidly  round  his  head.  "  Horrible!  ain't  it,  sir?  horri- 
ble! He  was  a  fine  young  man,  the  very  picture  of  this 
one;  only  his  hair  was  black,  which  is  now  hanging  in 
a  bloody  Indian  wigwam.    He  was  often  and  often  on 


8  THE  VIRGINIANS 

board  of  the  '  Young  Rachel,'  and  would  have  his  chests 
of  books  broke  open  on  deck  before  they  was  landed. 
He  was  a  shy  and  silent  young  gent:  not  like  this  one, 
which  w^as  the  merriest,  wildest  young  fellow,  full  of 
his  songs  and  fun.  He  took  on  dreadful  at  the  news; 
went  to  his  bed,  had  that  fever  which  lays  so  many  of 
'em  by  the  heels  along  that  swampy  Potomac,  but  he's 
got  better  on  the  voyage:  the  voyage  makes  every  one 
better ;  and,  in  course,  the  young  gentleman  can't  be  for 
ever  a-crying  after  a  brother  who  dies  and  leaves  him 
a  great  fortune.  Ever  since  we  sighted  Ireland  he  has 
been  quite  gay  and  happy,  only  he  would  go  off  at  times, 
when  he  was  most  merry,  saying,  '  I  wish  my  dearest 
Georgy  could  enjoy  this  here  sight  along  with  me,'  and 
when  you  mentioned  the  t'other's  name,  you  see,  he 
couldn't  stand  it."  And  the  honest  Captain's  own  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  as  he  turned  and  looked  towards  the 
object  of  his  compassion. 

Mr.  Trail  assumed  a  lugubrious  countenance  befit- 
ting the  tragic  compliment  with  which  he  prepared  to 
greet  the  young  Virginian ;  but  the  latter  answered  him 
very  curtly,  declined  his  offers  of  hospitality,  and  only 
stayed  in  IVIr.  Trail's  house  long  enough  to  drink  a  glass 
of  wine  and  to  take  up  a  sum  of  money  of  which  he  stood 
in  need.  But  he  and  Captain  Franks  parted  on  the  very 
warmest  terms,  and  all  the  little  crew  of  the  "  Young 
Rachel  "  cheered  from  the  ship's  side  as  their  passenger 
left  it. 

Again  and  again  Harry  Warrington  and  his  brother 
had  pored  over  the  English  map,  and  determined  upon 
the  course  which  they  should  take  upon  arriving  at 
Home.  All  Americans  who  love  the  old  country— and 
what  gently-nurtured  man  or  woman  of  Anglo-Saxon 


THE  VIRGINIANS  9 

race  does  not?— have  ere  this  rehearsed  their  English 
travels,  and  visited  in  fancy  the  spots  with  which  their 
hopes,  their  parents'  fond  stories,  their  friends'  descrip- 
tions, have  rendered  them  familiar.  There  are  few 
cthings  to  me  more  affecting  in  the  history  of  the  quarrel 
which  divided  the  two  great  nations  than  the  recurrence 
of  that  word  Home,  as  used  bj^  the  younger  towards  the 
elder  country.  Harry  Warrington  had  his  chart  laid 
out.  Before  London,  and  its  glorious  temples  of  St. 
Paul's  and  St.  Peter's ;  its  grim  Tower,  where  the  brave 
and  loyal  had  shed  their  blood,  from  Wallace  down  to 
Balmerino  and  Kilmarnock,  pitied  by  gentle  hearts;— 
before  the  awful  window  at  Whitehall,  whence  the  mar- 
tyr Charles  had  issued,  to  kneel  once  more,  and  then 
ascend  to  heaven;— before  Playhouses,  Parks,  and  Pal- 
aces, wondrous  resorts  of  wit,  pleasure,  and  splendour; 
—before  Shakspeare's  Resting-place  under  the  tall  spire 
which  rises  by  Avon,  amidst  the  sweet  Warwickshire 
pastures;— before  Derby,  and  Falkirk,  and  Culloden, 
where  the  cause  of  honour  and  loyalty  had  fallen,  it 
might  be  to  rise  no  more:— before  all  these  points  in 
their  pilgrimage  there  was  one  which  the  young  Vir- 
ginian brothers  held  even  more  sacred,  and  that  was 
the  home  of  their  family,— that  old  Castlewood  in 
Hampshire,  about  which  their  parents  had  talked  so 
fondly.  From  Bristol  to  Bath,  from  Bath  to  Salisbury, 
to  Winchester,  to  Hexton,  to  Home;  they  knew  the 
way,  and  had  mapped  the  journey  many  and  many  a 
time.  * 

We  must  fancy  our  American  traveller  to  be  a  hand- 
some young  fellow,  whose  suit  of  sables  only  made  him 
look  the  more  interesting.  The  plimip  landlady  from 
her  bar,  surrounded  by  her  china  and  punch-bowls,  and 


10  THE  VIRGINIANS 

stout  gilded  bottles  of  strong  waters,  and  glittering  rows 
of  silver  flagons,  looked  kindly  after  the  young  gentle- 
man as  he  passed  through  the  inn-hall  from  his  post- 
chaise,  and  the  obsequious  chamberlain  bowed  him  up 
stairs  to  the  "  Rose  "  or  the  "  Dolphin."  The  trim  cham- 
bermaid dropped  her  best  curtsey  for  his  fee,  and 
Gumbo,  in  the  inn-kitchen,  where  the  townsfolk  drank 
their  mug  of  ale  by  the  great  fire,  bragged  of  his  young 
master's  splendid  house  in  Virginia,  and  of  the  immense 
wealth  to  which  he  was  heir.  The  post-chaise  whirled 
the  traveller  through  the  most  delightful  home-scenery 
his  eyes  had  ever  lighted  on.  If  English  landscape  is 
pleasant  to  the  American  of  the  present  day,  who  must 
needs  contrast  the  rich  woods  and  glowing  pastures  and 
picturesque  ancient  villages  of  the  old  country  with 
the  rough  aspect  of  his  own,  how  much  pleasanter  must 
Harry  Warrington's  course  have  been,  whose  journeys 
had  lain  through  swamps  and  forest  solitudes  from  one 
Virginian  ordinary  to  another  log-house  at  the  end  of 
the  daj^'s  route,  and  who  now  lighted  suddenly  upon 
the  busy,  happy,  splendid  scene  of  English  summer? 
And  the  high-road,  a  hundred  years  ago,  was  not  that 
grass-grown  desert  of  the  present  time.  It  was  alive 
with  constant  travel  and  traffic:  the  country  towns  and 
inns  swarmed  with  life  and  gaiety.  The  ponderous 
wagon,  with  its  bells  and  plodding  team ;  the  light  post- 
coach  that  achieved  the  journey  from  the  "  White  Hart," 
Salisbury,  to  the  "  Swan  with  Two  Necks,"  London,  in 
two  days;  the  strings  of  pack-horses  that  had  not  yet 
left  the  road;  my  lord's  gilt  post-chaise  and  six,  with 
the  outriders  galloping  on  ahead;  the  country  squire's 
great  coach  and  heavy  Flanders  mares;  the  farmers 
trotting  to  market,  or  the  parson  jolting  to  the  cathedral 


THE  VIRGINIANS  11 

town  on  Dumpling,  his  wife  behind  on  the  pillion — all 
these  crowding  sights  and  brisk  people  greeted  the  young 
traveller  on  his  summer  journey.  Hodge  the  farmer's 
boy  took  off  his  hat,  and  Polly  the  milk-maid  bobbed  a 
tairtsey,  as  the  chaise  whirled  over  the  pleasant  village- 
green,  and  the  white-headed  children  lifted  their  chubby 
faces  and  cheered.  The  church-spires  glistened  with 
gold,  the  cottage-gables  glared  in  sunshine,  the  great 
elms  murmured  in  summer,  or  cast  purple  shadows  over 
the  grass.  Young  Warrington  never  had  had  such  a 
glorious  day,  or  witnessed  a  scene  so  delightful.  To  be 
nineteen  years  of  age,  with  high  health,  high  spirits,  and 
a  full  purse,  to  be  making  your  first  journey,  and  rolling 
through  the  country  in  a  post-chaise  at  nine  miles  an 
hour — O  happy  youth!  almost  it  makes  one  young  to 
think  of  him!  But  Harry  was  too  eager  to  give  more 
than  a  passing  glance  at  the  Abbey  at  Bath,  or  gaze  with 
more  than  a  moment's  wonder  at  the  mighty  Minster  at 
Salisbury.  Until  he  beheld  Home  it  seemed  to  him  he 
had  no  eyes  for  any  other  place. 

At  last  the  young  gentleman's  post-chaise  drew  up  at 
the  rustic  inn  on  Castlewood  Green,  of  which  his  grand - 
sire  had  many  a  time  talked  to  him,  and  which  bears  as 
its  ensign,  swinging  from  an  elm  near  the  inn  porch,  the 
Three  Castles  of  the  Esmond  family.  They  had  a  sign, 
too,  over  the  gateway  of  Castlewood  House,  bearing  the 
same  cognizance.  This  was  the  hatchment  of  Francis, 
Lord  Castlewood,  who  now  lay  in  the  chapel  hard  by, 
his  son  reigning  in  his  stead. 

Harry  Warrington  had  often  heard  of  Francis,  Lord 
Castlewood.  It  was  for  Frank's  sake,  and  for  his  great 
love  towards  the  boy,  that  Colonel  Esmond  determined 
to  forego  his  claim  to  the  English  estates  and  rank  of  his 


12  THE  VIRGINIANS 

family,  and  retired  to  Virginia.  The  young  man  had 
led  a  wild  youth ;  he  had  fought  with  distinction  under 
Marlhorough ;  he  had  married  a  foreign  lady,  and  most 
lamentably  adopted  her  religion.  At  one  time  he  had 
been  a  Jacobite  (for  loyalty  to  the  sovereign  was  ever 
hereditary  in  the  Esmond  family) ,  but  had  received  some 
slight  or  injury  from  the  Prince,  which  had  caused  him 
to  rally  to  King  George's  side.  He  had,  on  his  second 
marriage,  renounced  the  errors  of  Popery  which  he  had 
temporarily  embraced,  and  returned  to  the  Established 
Church  again.  He  had,  from  his  constant  support  of 
the  King  and  the  Minister  of  the  time  being,  been  re- 
warded by  his  Majesty  King  George  II.,  and  died  an 
English  peer.  An  earl's  coronet  now  figured  on  the 
hatchment  which  hung  over  Castlewood  gate — and  there 
was  an  end  of  the  jolly  gentleman.  Between  Colonel 
Esmond,  who  had  become  his  stepfather,  and  his  lord- 
ship there  had  ever  been  a  brief  but  affectionate  corre- 
spondence—on the  Colonel's  part  especially,  who  loved 
his  stepson,  and  had  a  hundred  stories  to  tell  about  him  to 
his  grandchildren.  Madam  Esmond,  however,  said  she 
could  see  nothing  in  her  half-brother.  He  was  dull,  ex- 
cept when  he  drank  too  much  wine,  and  that,  to  be  sure, 
was  every  day  at  dinner.  Then  hd  was  boisterous,  and  his 
conversation  not  pleasant.  He  was  good-looking — yes 
— a  fine  tall  stout  animal;  she  had  rather  her  boys  should 
follow  a  different  model.  In  spite  of  the  grandfather's 
encomium  of  the  late  lord,  the  boys  had  no  very  great 
respect  for  their  kinsman's  memory.  The  lads  and  their 
mother  were  staunch  Jacobites,  though  having  every  re- 
spect for  his  present  Majesty;  but  right  was  right,  and 
nothing  could  make  their  hearts  swerve  from  their  alle- 
giance to  the  descendants  of  the  martyr  Charles. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  13 

With  a  beating  heart  Hariy  Warrington  walked  from 
the  inn  towards  the  house  where  his  grandsire's  youth  had 
been  passed.  The  httle  village-green  of  Castlewood 
slopes  down  towards  the  river,  which  is  spanned  by  an  old 
-bridge  of  a  single  broad  arch,  and  from  this  the  ground 
rises  gradually  towards  the  house,  grey  with  many  gables 
and  buttresses,  and  backed  by  a  darkling  wood.  An 
old  man  sat  at  the  wicket  on  a  stone  bench  in  front  of  the 
great  arched  entrance  to  the  house,  over  which  the  earl's 
hatchment  was  hanging.  An  old  dog  was  crouched  at 
the  man's  feet.  Immediately  above  the  ancient  sentry 
at  the  gate  was  an  open  casement  with  some  homely 
flowers  in  the  window,  from  behind  which  good-hu- 
moured girls'  faces  were  peeping.  They  were  watching 
the  young  traveller  dressed  in  black  as  he  walked  up 
gazing  towards  the  castle,  and  the  ebony  attendant  who 
followed  the  gentleman's  steps  also  accoutred  in  mourn- 
ing. So  was  he  at  the  gate  in  mourning,  and  the  girls 
when  they  came  out  had  black  ribbons. 

To  Harry's  surprise,  the  old  man  accosted  him  by  his 
name.  "  You  have  had  a  nice  ride  to  Hexton,  Master 
Harr}^  and  the  sorrel  carried  you  well." 

"  I  think  you  must  be  Lockwood,"  said  Harry,  with 
rather  a  tremulous  voice,  holding  out  his  hand  to  the  old 
man.  His  grandfather  had  often  told  him  of  Lockwood, 
and  how  he  had  accompanied  the  Colonel  and  the  young 
Viscount  in  Marlborough's  wars  forty  years  ago.  The 
veteran  seemed  puzzled  by  the  mark  of  affection  which 
Harry  extended  to  him.  The  old  dog  gazed  at  the  new 
comer,  and  then  went  and  put  his  head  between  his  knees. 
"  I  have  heard  of  you  often.  How  did  you  know  my 
name? " 

"  They  say  I  forget  most  things,"  says  the  old  man. 


14  THE  VIRGINIANS 

with  a  smile ;  "  but  I  ain't  so  bad  as  that  quite.  Only 
this  morning,  when  you  went  out,  my  darter  says,  '  Fa- 
ther, do  you  know  why  you  have  a  black  coat  on? '  '  In 
course  I  know  why  I  have  a  black  coat,'  says  I.  '  My 
lord  is  dead.  They  say  'twas  a  foul  blow,  and  Master 
Frank  is  my  lord  now,  and  Master  Harry  ' — why,  what 
have  you  done  since  you've  went  out  this  morning?  Why, 
you  have  a  grow'd  taller  and  changed  your  hair — though 
I  know — I  know  you." 

One  of  the  young  women  had  tripped  out  by  this  time 
from  the  porter's  lodge,  and  dropped  the  stranger  a 
pretty  curtsey.  "  Grandfather  sometimes  does  not  recol- 
lect very  well,"  she  said,  pointing  to  her  head.  "  Your 
honour  seems  to  have  heard  of  Lockwood?  " 

"  And  you,  have  you  never  heard  of  Colonel  Henry 
Esmond?" 

"  He  was  Captain  and  Major  in  Webb's  Foot,  and  I 
was  with  him  in  two  campaigns,  sure  enough,"  cries 
Lockwood.    "  Wasn't  I,  Ponto?  " 

"  The  Colonel  as  married  Viscountess  Rachel,  my  late 
lord's  mother?  and  went  to  live  amongst  the  Indians? 
We  have  heard  of  him.  Sure  we  have  his  picture  in  our 
gallery,  and  hisself  painted  it." 

"  Went  to  live  in  Virginia,  and  died  there  seven  years 
ago,  and  I  am  his  grandson." 

"  Lord,  your  honour!  Why,  your  honour's  skin's  as 
white  as  mine,"  cries  Molly.  "  Grandfather,  do  you  hear 
this?  His  honour  is  Colonel  Esmond's  grandson  that 
used  to  send  you  tobacco,  and  his  honour  have  come  all 
the  way  from  Virginia." 

"  To  see  you,  Lockwood,"  says  the  young  man,  "  and 
the  family.  I  only  set  foot  on  English  ground  yester- 
day, and  my  first  visit  is  for  home.    I  may  see  the  house, 


THE  VIRGINIANS 


15 


though  the  family  are  from  home?  "  Molly  dared  to  say 
Mrs.  Barker  would  let  his  honour  see  the  house,  and 
Harry  Warrington  made  his  way  across  the  court,  seem- 
ing to  know  the  place  as  well  as  if  he  had  been  born 
-Miere,  Miss  INIolly  thought,  who  followed,  accompanied 
bj^  Mr.  Gumbo  making  her  a  profusion  of  polite  bows 
and  speeches. 


CHAPTER   II 


IN    WHICH    HARRY    HAS   TO    PAY   FOR    HIS    SUPPER 


ESMOND'S 

rang     for 


a 


OLONEL 

grandson 

while  at  his  ancestors' 
house  of  Castlewood,  be- 
fore any  one  within 
seemed  incHned  to  notice 
Ii,  his  summons.  The  ser- 
vant, who  at  length  issued 
from  the  door,  seemed  to 
be  very  little  affected  by 
the  announcement  that 
the  visitor  was  a  relation 
of  the  family.  The  family 
was  away,  and  in  their  ab- 
sence John  cared  very  lit- 
tle for  their  relatives,  but 
was  eager  to  get  back  to  his  game  at  cards  with  Thomas 
in  the  window-seat.  The  housekeeper  was  busy  getting 
ready  for  my  lord  and  my  lady,  who  were  expected  that 
evening.  Only  by  strong  entreaties  could  Harry  gain 
leave  to  see  my  lady's  sitting-room  and  the  picture-room, 
where,  sure  enough,  was  a  portrait  of  his  grandfather 
in  periwig  and  breastplate,  the  counterpart  of  their  pic- 
ture in  Virginia,  and  a  likeness  of  his  grandmother,  as 
Lady  Castlewood,  in  a  yet  earlier  habit  of  Charles  II.'s 
time;   her  neck  bare,  her  fair  golden  hair  waving  over 

16 


THE  VIRGINIANS  17 

her  shoulders  in  ringlets  which  he  remembered  to  have 
seen  snowy  white.  From  the  contemplation  of  these 
sights  the  sulky  housekeeper  drove  him.  Her  family 
was  about  to  arrive.  There  was  my  lady  the  Countess, 
:'and  my  lord  and  his  brother,  and  the  young  ladies  and 
the  Baroness,  who  was  to  have  the  state  bedroom.  Who 
was  the  Baroness?  The  Baroness  Bernstein,  the  young 
ladies'  aunt.  Harry  wrote  down  his  name  on  a  paper 
from  his  own  pocket-book,  and  laid  it  on  a  table  in  the 
hall.  "  Henry  Esmond  Warrington,  of  Castle  wood  in 
Virginia,  arrived  in  England  yesterday — staying  at  the 
'  Three  Castles '  in  the  village."  The  lackeys  rose  up 
from  their  cards  to  open  the  door  to  him,  in  order  to 
get  their  "  vails,"  and  Gumbo  quitted  the  bench  at  the 
gate,  where  he  had  been  talking  with  old  Lockwood  the 
porter,  who  took  Harry's  guinea,  hardly  knowing  the 
meaning  of  the  gift.  During  the  visit  to  the  home  of 
his  fathers,  Harry  had  only  seen  little  Polly's  counte- 
nance that  was  the  least  unselfish  or  kindly;  he  walked 
away,  not  caring  to  own  how  disappointed  he  was,  and 
what  a  damp  had  been  struck  upon  him  by  the  aspect  of 
the  place.  They  ought  to  have  known  him.  Had  any 
of  them  ridden  up  to  his  house  in  Virginia,  whether  the 
master  were  present  or  absent,  the  guests  would  have 
been  made  welcome,  and,  in  sight  of  his  ancestors'  hall, 
he  had  to  go  and  ask  for  a  dish  of  bacon  and  eggs  at  a 
country  ale-house! 

After  his  dinner,  he  went  to  the  bridge  and  sat  on  it, 
looking  towards  the  old  house,  beliind  which  the  sun 
was  descending  as  the  rooks  came  cawing  home  to 
their  nests  in  the  elms.  Ilis  young  fancy  pictured 
itself  many  of  the  ancestors  of  wliom  his  motlier  and 
grandsire  had  told  him.    He  fancied  knights  and  hunts- 


18  THE  VIRGINIANS 

men  crossing  the  ford— cavaliers  of  King  Charles's  days; 
m}^  Lord  Castlewood,  his  grandmother's  first  husband, 
riding  out  with  hawk  and  hound.  The  recollection  of 
his  dearest  lost  brother  came  back  to  him  as  he  indulged 
in  these  reveries,  and  smote  him  with  a  pang  of  exceed- 
ing tenderness  and  longing,  insomuch  that  the  young 
man  hung  his  head  and  felt  his  sorrow  renewed  for  the 
dear  friend  and  companion  with  whom,  until  of  late,  all 
his  pleasures  and  griefs  had  been  shared.  As  he  sat 
plunged  in  his  own  thoughts,  which  w^ere  mingled  up 
with  the  mechanical  clinking  of  the  blacksmith's  forge 
hard  by,  the  noises  of  the  evening,  the  talk  of  the  rooks, 
and  the  calling  of  the  birds,  round  about — a  couple  of 
young  men  on  horseback  dashed  over  the  bridge.  One 
of  them,  with  an  oath,  called  him  a  fool,  and  told  him  to 
keep  out  of  the  way — the  other,  who  fancied  he  might 
have  jostled  the  foot-passenger,  and  possibly  might  have 
sent  him  over  the  parapet,  pushed  on  more  quickly  when 
he  reached  the  other  side  of  the  water,  calling  likewise  to 
Tom  to  come  on ;  and  the  pair  of  young  gentlemen  were 
up  the  hill  on  their  way  to  the  house  before  Harry  had 
recovered  himself  from  his  surprise  at  their  appearance, 
and  wrath  at  their  behaviour.  In  a  minute  or  two,  this 
advanced  guard  was  followed  by  two  livery  servants  on 
horseback,  who  scowled  at  the  young  traveller  on  the 
bridge  a  true  British  welcome  of  Curse  you,  who  are 
you?  After  these,  in  a  minute  or  two,  came  a  coach- 
and-six,  a  ponderous  vehicle  having  need  of  the  horses 
which  drew  it,  and  containing  three  ladies,  a  couple  of 
maids,  and  an  armed  man  on  a  seat  behind  the  carriage. 
Three  handsome  pale  faces  looked  out  at  Harry  War- 
rington as  the  carriage  passed  over  the  bridge,  and  did 
not  return  the  salute  whicli,  recognizing  the  family  arms. 


A  Welcome  to  Old  England 


THE  VIRGINIANS  19 

he  gave  it.  The  gentleman  behind  the  carriage  glared  at 
him  haughtily.  Harry  felt  terribly  alone.  He  thought 
he  would  go  back  to  Captain  Franks.  The  "  Rachel  " 
and  her  little  tossing  cabin  seemed  a  cheery  spot  in  com- 
|)arison  to  that  on  M^hich  he  stood.  The  inn  folks  did 
not  know  his  name  of  Warrington.  They  told  him  that 
was  my  lady  in  the  coach,  with  her  step-daughter,  my 
Lady  Maria,  and  her  daughter,  my  Lady  Fanny;  and 
the  young  gentleman  in  the  grey  frock  was  Mr.  William, 
and  he  with  powder  on  the  chestnut  was  my  lord.  It  was 
the  latter  had  sworn  the  loudest,  and  called  him  a  fool; 
and  it  was  the  grey  frock  which  had  nearly  galloped 
Harry  into  the  ditch. 

The  landlord  of  the  "  Three  Castles  "  had  shown 
Harry  a  bed-chamber,  but  he  had  refused  to  have  his 
portmanteaux  unpacked,  thinking  that,  for  a  certainty, 
the  folks  at  the  great  house  would  invite  him  to  theirs. 
One,  two,  three  hours  passed,  and  there  came  no  invi- 
tation. Harry  was  fain  to  have  his  trunks  open  at  last, 
and  to  call  for  his  slippers  and  gown.  Just  before  dark, 
about  two  hours  after  the  arrival  of  the  first  carriage,  a 
second  chariot  with  four  horses  had  passed  over  the 
bridge,  and  a  stout,  high-coloured  lady,  with  a  very  dark 
pair  of  eyes,  had  looked  hard  at  Mr.  Warrington.  That 
was  the  Baroness  Bernstein,  the  landlady  said,  my  lord's 
aunt,  and  Harry  remembered  the  first  Lady  Castlewood 
had  come  of  a  German  family.  Earl,  and  Countess,  and 
Baroness,  and  postilions,  and  gentlemen  and  horses,  had 
all  disappeared  behind  the  castle  gate,  and  Harry  was 
fain  to  go  to  bed  at  last,  in  the  most  melancholy  mood 
and  with  a  cruel  sense  of  neglect  and  loneliness  in  his 
young  heart.  He  could  not  sleep,  and,  besides,  ere  long, 
heard  a  prodigious  noise,  and  cursing,  and  giggling,  and 


20  THE  VIRGINIANS 

screaming  from  my  landlady's  bar,  which  would  have 
served  to  keep  him  awake. 

Then  Gumbo's  voice  was  heard  without,  remonstrat- 
ing, "  You  cannot  go  in,  sar — my  master  asleep,  sar! " 
but  a  shrill  voice,  with  many  oaths,  which  Harry  War- 
rington recognized,  cursed  Gumbo  for  a  stupid,  negro 
woolly  pate,  and  he  was  pushed  aside,  giving  entrance 
to  a  flood  of  oaths  into  the  room,  and  a  young  gentleman 
behind  them. 

"  Beg  your  pardon.  Cousin  Warrington,"  cried  the 
young  blasphemer,  "  are  you  asleep?  Beg  your  pardon 
for  riding  you  over  on  the  bridge.  Didn't  know  you — 
course  shouldn't  have  done  it — thought  it  was  a  lawyer 
with  a  writ— dressed  in  black,  you  know.  Gad!  thought 
it  was  Nathan  come  to  nab  me."  And  Mr.  William 
laughed  incoherently.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  excited 
with  liquor. 

"  You  did  me  great  honour  to  mistake  me  for  a  sher- 
iff's officer,  cousin,"  says  Harry,  with  great  gravity,  sit- 
ting up  in  his  tall  nightcap. 

"  Gad !  I  thought  it  was  Nathan,  and  was  going  to 
send  you  souse  into  the  river.  But  I  ask  your  pardon. 
You  see  I  had  been  drinking  at  the  '  Bell '  at  Hexton, 
and  the  punch  is  good  at  the  '  Bell '  at  Hexton.  Hullo, 
you  Davis!  a  bowl  of  punch ;  d'you  hear?  " 

"  I  have  had  my  share  for  to-night,  cousin,  and  I 
should  think  you  have,"  Harry  continues,  always  in  the 
dignified  style. 

"  You  want  me  to  go.  Cousin  What's-your-name,  I 
see,"  Mr.  William  said,  with  gravity.  "  You  want  me 
to  go,  and  they  want  me  to  come,  and  I  didn't  want  to 
come.  I  said,  I'd  see  him  hanged  first,— that's  what  I 
said.     Why  should  I  trouble  myself  to  come  down  all 


THE  VIRGINIANS  21 

alone  of  an  evening,  and  look  after  a  fellow  I  don't  care 
a  pin  for?  Zackly  what  I  said.  Zackly  what  Castle- 
wood  said.  Why  the  devil  should  he  go  down?  Castle- 
wood  says,  and  so  said  my  lady,  but  the  Baroness  would 
-iiave  you.  It's  all  the  Baroness's  doing,  and  if  she  says 
a  thing  it  must  be  done;  so  you  must  just  get  up  and 
come."  Mr.  Esmond  delivered  these  words  with  the 
most  amiable  rapidity  and  indistinctness,  running  them 
into  one  another,  and  tacking  about  the  room  as  he  spoke. 
But  the  young  Virginian  was  in  great  wrath.  "  I  tell 
you  what,  cousin,"  he  cried,  "  I  won't  move  for  the  Coun- 
tess, or  for  the  Baroness,  or  for  all  the  cousins  in  Castle- 
wood."  And  when  the  landlord  entered  the  chamber 
with  the  bowl  of  punch,  which  Mr.  Esmond  had  ordered, 
the  young  gentleman  in  bed  called  out  fiercely  to  the 
host,  to  turn  that  sot  out  of  the  room. 

"Sot,  you  little  tobacconist!  Sot,  you  Cherokee!" 
screams  out  Mr.  William.  "  Jump  out  of  bed,  and  I'll 
drive  my  sword  through  your  body.  Why  didn't  I  do 
it  to-day  when  I  took  you  for  a  bailiff — a  confounded 
pettifogging  bum-bailiff?  "  And  he  went  on  screeching 
more  oaths  and  incoherences,  until  the  landlord,  the 
drawer,  the  hostler,  and  all  the  folks  of  the  kitchen 
were  brought  to  lead  him  away.  After  which  Harry 
Warrington  closed  his  tent  round  him  in  sulky  wrath, 
and,  no  doubt,  finally  went  fast  to  sleep. 

My  landlord  was  very  much  more  obsequious  on  the 
next  morning  when  he  met  his  young  guest,  having  now 
fully  learned  his  name  and  quality.  Other  messengers 
had  come  from  the  castle  on  the  previous  night  to  bring 
both  the  young  gentlemen  home,  and  poor  Mr.  William, 
it  appeared,  had  returned  in  a  wheelbarrow,  being  not 


22  THE  VIRGINIANS 

altogether  unaccustomed  to  that  mode  of  conveyance. 
"  He  never  rememhers  nothin'  ahout  it  the  next  day. 
He  is  of  a  real  kind  nature,  ]\Ir.  William,"  the  landlord 
vowed,  "  and  the  men  get  crowns  and  half-crowns  from 
him  by  saying  that  he  beat  them  overnight  when  he  was 
in  liquor.  He's  the  devil  when  he's  tipsy,  JNIr.  William, 
but  when  he  is  sober  he  is  the  very  kindest  of  young 
gentlemen." 

As  nothing  is  unknown  to  writers  of  biographies  of 
the  present  kind,  it  may  be  as  well  to  state  what  had 
occurred  within  the  walls  of  Castlewood  House,  whilst 
Harry  Warrington  was  without,  awaiting  some  token 
of  recognition  from  his  kinsmen.     On  their  arrival  at 
home  the  family  had  found  the  paper  on  which  the  lad's 
name  was  inscribed,  and  his  appearance  occasioned  a 
little  domestic  council.    My  Lord  Castlewood  supposed 
that  must  have  been  the  young  gentleman  whom  they 
had  seen  on  the  bridge,  and  as  they  had  not  drowned  him 
they  must  invite  him.     Let  a  man  go  down  with  the 
proper  messages,  let  a  servant  carry  a  note.  Lady  Fanny 
thought  it  would  be  more  civil  if  one  of  the  brothers 
would  go  to  their  kinsman,  especially  considering  the 
original  greeting  which  they  had  given.     Lord  Castle- 
wood had  not  the  slightest  objection  to  his  brother  Wil- 
liam going— yes,  William  should  go.     Upon  this  Mr. 
William  said  (with  a  yet  stronger  expression)  that  he 
would  be  hanged  if  he  would  go.    Lady  Maria  thought 
the  young  gentleman  whom  they  had  remarked  at  the 
bridge   was   a   pretty   fellow   enough.      Castlewood   is 
dreadfully  dull,  I  am  sure  neither  of  my  brothers  do 
anything  to  make  it  amusing.    He  may  be  vulgar— no 
doubt  he  is  vulgar— but  let  us  see  the  American.     Such 
was   Lady   Maria's   opinion.      Lady   Castlewood   was 


THE  VIRGINIANS  23 

neither  for  inviting  nor  for  refusing  him,  but  for  delay- 
ing. "  Wait  till  your  aunt  comes,  children ;  perhaps  the 
Baroness  won't  like  to  see  the  young  man;  at  least,  let 
us  consult  her  before  we  ask  him."  And  so  the  hospital- 
ity to  be  offered  by  his  nearest  kinsfolk  to  poor  Harry 
Warrington  remained  yet  in  abeyance. 

At  length  the  equipage  of  the  Baroness  Bernstein 
made  its  appearance,  and  whatever  doubt  there  might 
be  as  to  the  reception  of  the  Virginian  stranger,  there  was 
no  lack  of  enthusiasm  in  this  generous  family  regarding 
their  wealthy  and  powerful  kinswoman.  The  state- 
chamber  had  already  been  prepared  for  her.  The  cook 
had  arrived  the  previous  day  with  instructions  to  get 
ready  a  supper  for  her  such  as  her  ladyship  liked.  The 
table  sparkled  with  old  plate,  and  was  set  in  the  oak 
dining-room  with  the  pictures  of  the  family  round  the 
walls.  There  was  the  late  Viscount,  his  father,  his 
mother,  his  sister, — these  two  lovely  pictures.  There  was 
his  predecessor  by  Vandyck,  and  his  Viscountess.  There 
was  Colonel  Esmond,  their  relative  in  Virginia,  about 
whose  grandson  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  Esmond 
family  showed  such  a  very  moderate  degree  of  sympa- 
thy. 

The  feast  set  before  their  aunt,  the  Baroness,  was  a 
very  good  one,  and  her  ladyship  enjoyed  it.  The  supper 
occupied  an  hour  or  two,  during  which  the  whole  Cas- 
tlewood  family  were  most  attentive  to  their  guest.  The 
Countess  pressed  all  the  good  dishes  upon  her,  of  which 
she  freely  partook:  the  butler  no  sooner  saw  her  glass 
empty  than  he  filled  it  with  champagne:  the  young  folks 
and  their  mother  kept  up  the  conversation,  not  so  much 
by  talking,  as  by  listening  aj)propriately  to  their  friend. 
She  was  full  of  spirits  and  humour^     She  seemed  to 


24  THE  VIRGINIANS 

know  everybody  in  Europe,  and  about  those  everybodies 
the  wickedest  stories.  The  Countess  of  Castlewood, 
ordinarily  a  very  demure,  severe  woman,  and  a  stickler 
for  the  proprieties,  smiled  at  the  very  worst  of  these 
anecdotes;  the  girls  looked  at  one  another  and  laughed 
at  the  maternal  signal ;  the  boys  giggled  and  roared  with 
especial  delight  at  their  sisters'  confusion.  They  also 
partook  freely  of  the  wine  which  the  butler  handed 
round,  nor  did  they,  or  their  guest,  disdain  the  bowl  of 
smoking  punch,  which  was  laid  on  the  table  after  the 
sui^per.  Many  and  many  a  night,  the  Baroness  said, 
she  had  drunk  at  that  table  by  her  father's  side.  "  That 
was  his  place,"  she  pointed  to  the  place  where  the  Coun- 
tess now  sat.  She  saw  none  of  the  old  plate.  That 
was  all  melted  to  pay  his  gambling  debts.  She  hoped, 
"  Young  gentlemen,  that  you  don't  play?  " 

"  Never,  on  my  word,"  says  Castlewood. 

"  Never,  'pon  honour,"  says  Will,  winking  at  his 
brother. 

The  Baroness  was  very  glad  to  hear  they  were  such 
good  boys.  Her  face  grew  redder  with  the  punch ;  and 
she  became  voluble,  might  have  been  thought  coarse,  but 
that  times  were  different,  and  those  critics  were  inclined 
to  be  especially  favourable. 

She  talked  to  the  boys  about  their  father,  their  grand- 
father— other  men  and  women  of  the  house.  "  The  only 
man  of  the  family  was  that"  she  said,  pointing  (with  an 
arm  that  was  yet  beautifully  round  and  white)  towards 
the  picture  of  the  military  gentleman  in  the  red  coat  and 
cuirass,  and  great  black  periwig. 

"  The  Virginian?  What  is  he  good  for?  I  always 
thought  he  was  good  for  nothing  but  to  cultivate  tobacco 
and  my  grandmother,"  says  my  lord,  laughing. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  25 

She  struck  her  hand  upon  the  table  with  an  energy  that 
made  the  glasses  dance.  "  I  say  he  was  the  best  of  you 
all.  There  never  was  one  of  the  male  Esmonds  that 
had  more  brains  than  a  goose,  except  him.  He  was  not 
M  for  this  wicked,  selfish  old  world  of  ours,  and  he  was 
right  to  go  and  live  out  of  it.  Where  would  your  father 
have  been,  young  people,  but  for  him? " 

"  Was  he  particularly  kind  to  our  papa?  "  says  Lady 
Maria. 

"Old  stories,  my  dear  Maria!"  cries  the  Countess. 
"  I  am  sure  my  dear  Earl  was  very  kind  to  him  in  giving 
him  that  great  estate  in  Virginia." 

"  Since  his  brother's  death,  the  lad  who  has  been  here 
to-day  is  heir  to  that.  Mr.  Draper  told  me  so!  Peste! 
I  don't  know  why  my  father  gave  up  such  a  property." 

''Who  has  been  here  to-day?"  asked  the  Baroness, 
highly  excited. 

"  Harry  Esmond  Warrington,  of  Virginia,"  my  lord 
answered:  "a  lad  whom  Will  nearly  pitched  into  the 
river,  and  whom  I  pressed  my  lady  the  Countess  to 
invite  to  stay  here." 

"  You  mean  that  one  of  the  Virginian  boys  has  been 
to  Castlewood,  and  has  not  been  asked  to  stay  here?  " 

"  There  is  but  one  of  them,  my  dear  creature,"  inter- 
poses the  Earl.    "  The  other,  you  know,  has  just  been—" 

"  For  shame,  for  shame!  " 

"  Oh!  it  ain't  pleasant,  I  confess,  to  be  sc " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  a  grandson  of  Henry  Esmond, 
the  master  of  this  house,  has  been  here,  and  none  of  you 
have  offered  him  hospitality?  " 

"  Since  we  didn't  know  it,  and  he  is  staying  at  the 
Castles?  "  interposes  Will. 

"  That  he  is  staying  at  the  Inn,  and  you  are  sitting 


26  THE  VIRGINIANS 

there! "  cries  the  old  lady.  "  This  is  too  bad— call  some- 
body to  nie.  Get  me  my  hood — I'll  go  to  the  boy  myself. 
Come  with  me  this  instant,  my  Lord  Castlewood." 

The  yomig  man  rose  up,  evidently  in  wrath.  "  Ma- 
dame the  Baroness  of  Bernstein,"  he  said,  "  your  lady- 
ship is  welcome  to  go;  but  as  for  me,  I  don't  choose  to 
have  such  words  as  '  shameful '  applied  to  my  conduct.  I 
won't  go  and  fetch  the  young  gentleman  from  Virginia, 
and  I  propose  to  sit  here  and  finish  this  bowl  of  punch. 
Eugene!  Don't  Eugene  me,  madam.  I  know  her  lady- 
ship has  a  great  deal  of  money,  which  you  are  desirous 
should  remain  in  our  amiable  family.  You  want  it  more 
than  I  do.  Cringe  for  it— I  won't."  And  he  sank  back 
in  his  chair. 

The  Baroness  looked  at  the  family,  who  held  their 
heads  down,  and  then  at  my  lord,  but  this  time  without 
any  dislike.  She  leaned  over  to  him,  and  said  rapidly  in 
German,  "  I  had  unright  when  I  said  the  Colonel  was 
the  only  man  of  the  family.  Thou  canst,  if  thou  wiliest, 
Eugene."    To  which  remark  my  lord  only  bowed. 

"  If  you  do  not  wish  an  old  woman  to  go  out  at  this 
hour  of  the  night,  let  William,  at  least,  go  and  fetch  his 
cousin,"  said  the  Baroness. 

"  The  very  thing  I  proposed  to  him." 

"  And  so  did  we — and  so  did  we!  "  cried  the  daughters 
in  a  breath. 

"  I  am  sure,  I  only  wanted  the  dear  Baroness's  con- 
sent! "  said  their  mother,  "  and  shall  be  charmed  for  my 
part  to  welcome  our  young  relative." 

"  Will !  Put  on  thy  pattens,  and  get  a  lantern,  and 
go  fetch  the  Virginian,"  said  my  lord. 

"  And  we  will  have  another  bowl  of  punch  when  he 
comes,"  says  William,  who  by  this  time  had  already  had 


THE  VIRGINIANS  27 

too  much.  And  he  went  forth — how  we  have  seen ;  and 
how  he  had  more  punch ;  and  how  ill  he  succeeded  in  his 
embass)\ 

The  worthy  lady  of  Castlewood,  as  she  caught  sight 
o^young  Harry  Warrington  by  the  river  side,  must  have 
seen  a  very  handsome  and  interesting  youth,  and  very 
likely  had  reasons  of  her  own  for  not  desiring  his  pres- 
ence in  her  family.  All  mothers  are  not  eager  to  en- 
courage the  visits  of  interesting  youths  of  nineteen  in 
families  where  there  are  virgins  of  twenty.  If  Harry's 
acres  had  been  in  Norfolk  or  Devon,  in  place  of  Virginia, 
no  doubt  the  good  Countess  would  have  been  rather  more 
eager  in  her  welcome.  Had  she  wanted  him,  she  would 
have  given  him  her  hand  readily  enough.  If  our  people 
of  ton  are  selfish,  at  any  rate  they  show  they  are  selfish ; 
and,  being  cold-hearted,  at  least  have  no  hypocrisy  of 
affection. 

Why  should  Lady  Castlewood  put  herself  out  of  the 
way  to  welcome  the  young  stranger?  Because  he  was 
friendless?  Only  a  simpleton  could  ever  imagine  such 
a  reason  as  that.  People  of  fashion,  like  her  ladyship, 
are  friendly  to  those  who  have  plenty  of  friends.  A  poor 
lad,  alone,  from  a  distant  country,  with  only  very  mod- 
erate means,  and  those  not  as  yet  in  his  own  power,  with 
uncouth  manners  very  likely,  and  coarse  provincial 
habits;  was  a  great  lady  called  upon  to  put  herself  out 
of  the  way  for  such  a  youth?  Allons  done!  He  was 
quite  as  well  at  the  ale-house  as  at  the  castle. 

This,  no  doubt,  was  her  ladyship's  opinion,  which  her 
kinswoman,  the  Baroness  Bernstein,  who  knew  her  per- 
fectly well,  entirely  understood.  The  Baroness,  too,  was 
a  woman  of  the  world,  and,  possibly,  on  occasion,  could 
be  as  selfish  as  any  other  person  of  fashion.     She  fully 


28  THE  VIRGINIANS 

understood  the  cause  of  the  deference  which  all  the 
Castlewood  family  showed  to  her— mother,  and  daugh- 
ter, and  sons,— and  being  a  woman  of  great  humour, 
played  upon  the  dispositions  of  the  various  members  of 
this  family,  amused  herself  with  their  greedinesses,  their 
humiliations,  their  artless  respect  for  her  money-box,  and 
clinging  attachment  to  her  purse.  They  were  not  very 
rich ;  Lady  Castlewood's  own  money  was  settled  on  her 
children.  The  two  elder  had  inherited  nothing  but  flaxen 
heads  from  their  German  mother,  and  a  pedigree  of  pro- 
digious distinction.  But  those  who  had  money,  and  those 
who  had  none,  were  alike  eager  for  the  Baroness's;  in 
this  matter  the  rich  are  surely  quite  as  greedy  as  the 
poor. 

So  if  Madam  Bernstein  struck  her  hand  on  the  table, 
and  caused  the  glasses  and  the  persons  round  it  to  trem- 
ble at  her  wrath,  it  was  because  she  was  excited  with 
plenty  of  punch  and  champagne,  which  her  ladyship  was 
in  the  habit  of  taking  freely,  and  because  she  may  have 
had  a  generous  impulse  when  generous  wine  warmed  her 
blood,  and  felt  indignant  as  she  thought  of  the  poor  lad 
yonder,  sitting  friendless  and  lonely  on  the  outside  of 
his  ancestors'  door;  not  because  she  was  specially  angry 
with  her  relatives,  who  she  knew  would  act  precisely  as 
they  had  done. 

The  exhibition  of  their  selfishness  and  humiliation 
alike  amused  her,  as  did  Castlewood's  act  of  revolt.  He 
was  as  selfish  as  the  rest  of  the  family,  but  not  so  mean ; 
and,  as  he  candidly  stated,  he  could  afford  the  luxury  of 
a  little  independence,  having  a  tolerable  estate  to  fall 
back  upon. 

Madam  Bernstein  was  an  early  woman,  restless,  reso- 
lute, extraordinarily  active  for  her  age.     She  was  up 


THE  VIRGINIANS  29 

long  before  the  languid  Castlewood  ladies  (just  home 
from  their  London  routs  and  balls)  had  quitted  their 
feather-beds,  or  jolly  Will  had  slept  off  his  various  pota- 
tions of  punch.  She  was  up,  and  pacing  the  green  ter- 
races that  sparkled  with  the  sweet  morning  dew,  which 
lay  twinkling,  also,  on  a  flowery  wilderness  of  trim  par- 
terres, and  on  the  crisp  walls  of  the  dark  box  hedges, 
under  which  marble  fauns  and  dryads  were  cooling 
themselves,  whilst  a  thousand  birds  sang,  the  fountains 
plashed  and  glittered  in  the  rosy  morning  sunshine,  and 
the  rooks  cawed  from  the  great  wood. 

Had  the  well-remembered  scene  (for  she  had  visited 
it  often  in  childhood)  a  freshness  and  charm  for  her? 
Did  it  recall  days  of  innocence  and  happiness,  and  did 
its  calm  beauty  soothe  or  please,  or  awaken  remorse  in 
her  heart?  Her  manner  was  more  than  ordinarily  af- 
fectionate and  gentle,  when,  presently,  after  pacing  the 
walks  for  a  half -hour,  the  person  for  whom  she  was 
waiting  came  to  her.  This  was  our  young  Virginian, 
to  whom  she  had  despatched  an  early  billet  by  one  of 
the  Lockwoods.  The  note  was  signed  B.  Bernstein,  and 
informed  Mr.  Esmond  Warrington  that  his  relatives  at 
Castlewood,  and  among  them  a  dear  friend  of  his  grand- 
father, were  most  anxious  that  he  should  come  to  "Colo- 
nel Esmond's  house  in  England"  And  now,  accord- 
ingly, the  lad  made  his  appearance,  passing  under  the 
old  Gothic  doorway,  tripping  down  the  steps  from  one 
garden  terrace  to  another,  hat  in  hand,  his  fair  hair  blow- 
ing from  his  flushed  cheeks,  his  slim  figure  clad  in  mourn- 
ing. The  handsome  and  modest  looks,  the  comely  face 
and  person,  of  the  young  lad  pleased  the  lady.  He  made 
her  a  low  bow  which  would  have  done  credit  to  Versailles. 
She  held  out  a  little  hand  to  him,  and,  as  his  own  palm 


30  THE  VIRGINIANS 

closed  over  it,  she  laid  the  other  hand  softly  on  his  ruffle. 
She  looked  very  kindly  and  affectionately  in  the  honest 
blushing  face. 

"  I  knew  your  grandfather  very  well,  Harry,"  she 
said.  "  So  you  came  yesterday  to  see  his  picture,  and 
they  turned  you  away,  though  you  know  the  house  was 
his  of  right?" 


Harry  blushed  very  red.  *'  The  servants  did  not  know 
me.  A  young  gentleman  came  to  me  last  night,"  he 
said,  "  when  I  was  peevish,  and  he,  I  fear,  was  tipsy. 
I  spoke  rudely  to  my  cousin,  and  would  ask  his  pardon. 
Your  ladyship  knows  that  in  Virginia  our  manners  to- 
wards strangers  are  different.  I  own  I  had  expected 
another  kind  of  welcome.  Was  it  you,  madam,  who 
sent  my  cousin  to  me  last  night?  " 

"I  sent  him;  but  you  will  find  your  cousins  most 


THE  VIRGINIANS  31 

friendly  to  you  to-day.  You  must  stay  here.  Lord 
Castlewood  would  have  been  with  j'^ou  this  morning,  only 
I  was  so  eager  to  see  you.  There  will  be  breakfast  in  an 
hour;  and  meantime  you  must  talk  to  me.  We  will 
:$end  to  the  '  Three  Castles '  for  your  servant  and  your 
baggage.  Give  me  j'^our  arm.  Stop,  I  dropped  my  cane 
when  you  came.    You  shall  be  my  cane." 

"  My  grandfather  used  to  call  us  his  crutches,"  said 
Harry. 
"You  are  like  him,  though  you  are  fair." 
"You  should  have  seen — you  should  have  seen  George," 
said  the  boy,  and  his  honest  eyes  welled  with  tears.  The 
recollection  of  his  brother,  the  bitter  pain  of  yesterday's 
humiliation,  the  afFectionateness  of  the  present  greeting 
— all,  perhaps,  contributed  to  soften  the  lad's  heart.  He 
felt  very  tenderly  and  gratefully  towards  the  lady  who 
had  received  him  so  warmly.  He  was  utterly  alone  and 
miserable  a  minute  since,  and  here  was  a  home  and  a  kind 
hand  held  out  to  him.  No  wonder  he  clung  to  it.  In 
the  hour  during  which  they  talked  together,  the  young- 
fellow  had  poured  out  a  great  deal  of  his  honest  heart  to 
the  kind  new-found  friend ;  when  the  dial  told  breakfast- 
time  he  wondered  to  think  how  much  he  had  told  her. 
She  took  him  to  the  breakfast-room ;  she  presented  him 
to  his  aunt,  the  Countess,  and  bade  him  embrace  his 
cousins.  Lord  Castlewood  was  frank  and  gracious 
enough.  Honest  Will  had  a  headache,  but  was  utterly 
unconscious  of  the  proceedings  of  the  past  night.  The 
ladies  were  very  pleasant  and  polite,  as  ladies  of  their 
fashion  know  how  to  be.  How  should  Harry  Warring- 
ton, a  simple  truth-telling  lad  from  a  distant  colony, 
who  had  only  yesterday  put  his  foot  upon  English  sliore, 
know  that  my  ladies,  so  smiling  and  easy  in  demeanour, 


32  THE  VIRGINIANS 

were  furious  against  him,  and  aghast  at  the  favour  with 
which  IMadam  Bernstein  seemed  to  regard  him? 

She  was  folle  of  him,  talked  of  no  one  else,  scarce  no- 
ticed the  Castlewood  young  people,  trotted  with  him 
over  the  house,  and  told  him  all  its  story,  showed  him  the 
little  room  in  the  court-yard  where  his  grandfather  used 
to  sleep,  and  a  cunning  cupboard  over  the  fireplace  which 
had  been  made  in  the  time  of  the  Catholic  persecutions ; 
drove  out  with  him  in  the  neighbouring  country,  and 
pointed  out  to  him  the  most  remarkable  sites  and  houses, 
and  had  in  return  the  whole  of  the  young  man's  story. 

This  brief  biography  the  kind  reader  will  please  to 
accept,  not  in  the  precise  words  in  which  Mr.  Harry 
Warrington  delivered  it  to  Madam  Bernstein,  but  in  the 
form  in  which  it  has  been  cast  in  the  Chapters  next  en- 
suing. 


CHAPTER  III 


^^ 


THE   ESMONDS    IN    VIRGINIA 


ENRY  ESMOND, 
ESQ.,  an  officer  who 
had  served  with  the 
rank  of  Colonel  dur- 
ing the  wars  of  Queen 
Anne's  reign,  found 
himself,  at  its  close, 
compromised  in  cer- 
tain attempts  for  the 
restoration  of  the 
Queen's  family  to 
the  throne  of  these 
realms.  Happily  for 
itself,  the  nation  pre- 
ferred another  dynas- 
ty; but  some  of  the 
few  opponents  of  the 
house  of  Hanover 
took  refuge  out  of  the  three  kingdoms,  and  amongst 
others,  Colonel  Esmond  was  counselled  by  his  friends 
to  go  abroad.  As  Mr.  Esmond  sincerely  regretted  the 
part  which  he  had  taken,  and  as  the  august  Prince  who 
came  to  rule  over  England  was  the  most  peaceable  of 
sovereigns,  in  a  very  little  time  the  Colonel's  friends 
found  means  to  make  his  peace. 

Mr.  Esmond,  it  has  been  said,  belonged  to  the  noble 

33 


34  THE  VIRGINIANS 

English  family  which  takes  its  title  from  Castlewood, 
ill  the  county  of  Hants;  and  it  was  pretty  generally 
known  that  King  James  II.  and  his  son  had  offered  the 
title  of  Marquis  to  Colonel  Esmond  and  his  father,  and 
that  the  former  might  have  assumed  the  (Irish)  peerage 
hereditary  in  his  family,  but  for  an  informality  which 
he  did  not  choose  to  set  right.  Tired  of  the  political 
struggles  in  which  he  had  been  engaged,  and  annoyed  by 
family  circumstances  in  Europe,  he  preferred  to  estab- 
lish himself  in  Virginia,  where  he  took  possession  of  a 
large  estate  conferred  by  King  Charles  I.  upon  his 
ancestor.  Here  Mr.  Esmond's  daughter  and  grandsons 
were  born,  and  his  wife  died.  This  lady,  when  she  mar- 
ried him,  was  the  widow  of  the  Colonel's  kinsman,  the 
unlucky  Viscount  Castlewood,  killed  in  a  duel  by  Lord 
Mohun,  at  the  close  of  King  William's  reign. 

Mr.  Esmond  called  his  American  house  Castlewood, 
from  the  patrimonial  home  in  the  old  country.  The 
whole  usages  of  Virginia,  indeed,  were  fondly  modelled 
after  the  English  customs.  It  was  a  loyal  colony.  The 
Virginians  boasted  that  King  Charles  II.  had  been  king 
in  Virginia  before  he  had  been  king  in  England.  Eng- 
lish king  and  English  church  were  alike  faithfully  hon- 
oured there.  The  resident  gentry  were  allied  to  good 
English  families.  They  held  their  heads  above  the 
Dutch  traders  of  New  York,  and  the  money-getting 
Roundheads  of  Pennsylvania  and  New  England.  Never 
were  people  less  republican  than  those  of  the  great 
province  which  was  soon  to  be  foremost  in  the  mem- 
orable revolt  against  the  British  Crown. 

The  gentry  of  Virginia  dwelt  on  their  great  lands 
after  a  fashion  almost  patriarchal.  For  its  rough  culti- 
vation, each  estate  had  a  multitude  of  hands — of  pur- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  35 

chased  and  assigned  servants— who  were  subject  to  the 
command  of  the  master.  The  land  yielded  their  food, 
live  stock,  and  game.  The  great  rivers  swarmed  with 
fish  for  the  taking.  From  their  banks  the  passage  home 
:i9^as  clear.  Their  ships  took  the  tobacco  off  their  private 
wharves  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac  or  the  James  river, 
and  carried  it  to  London  or  Bristol, — bringing  back 
English  goods  and  articles  of  home  manufacture  in  re- 
turn for  the  only  produce  which  the  Virginian  gentry 
chose  to  cultivate.  Their  hospitality  was  boundless. 
No  stranger  was  ever  sent  away  from  their  gates.  The 
gentry  received  one  another,  and  travelled  to  each  other's 
houses,  in  a  state  almost  feudal.  The  question  of  Sla- 
very was  not  born  at  the  time  of  which  we  write.  To  be 
the  proprietor  of  black  servants  shocked  the  feelings  of 
no  Virginian  gentleman;  nor,  in  truth,  was  the  des- 
potism exercised  over  the  negro  race  generally  a  savage 
one.  The  food  was  plent}'';  the  poor  black  people  lazy 
and  not  unhappy.  You  might  have  jDreached  negro 
emancipation  to  Madam  Esmond  of  Castlewood  as  you 
might  have  told  her  to  let  the  horses  run  loose  out  of 
her  stables;  she  had  no  doubt  but  that  the  whip  and 
the  corn-bag  were  good  for  both. 

Her  father  may  have  thought  otherwise,  being  of  a 
sceptical  turn  on  very  many  points,  but  his  doubts  did 
not  break  forth  in  active  denial,  and  he  was  rather  dis- 
affected than  rebellious.  At  one  period,  this  gentleman 
had  taken  a  part  in  active  life  at  liome,  and  ])ossibly 
might  have  been  eager  to  share  its  rewards ;  but  in  latter 
days  he  did  not  seem  to  care  for  them.  A  something  liad 
occurred  in  his  life,  which  had  cast  a  tinge  of  melancholy 
over  all  his  existence.  He  was  not  unhai)])y— to  those 
about  him  most  kind— most  afFectionate,  obsequious  even 


ae  THE  VIRGINIANS 

to  the  women  of  his  family,  whom  he  scarce  ever  contra- 
dicted ;  but  there  had  been  some  bankruptcy  of  his  heart, 
wliich  his  spirit  never  recovered.  He  submitted  to  life, 
rather  then  enjoyed  it,  and  never  was  in  better  spirits 
than  in  his  last  hours  when  he  was  going  to  lay  it  down. 

Having  lost  his  wife,  his  daughter  took  the  manage- 
ment of  the  Colonel  and  his  affairs;  and  he  gave  them 
up  to  her  charge  with  an  entire  acquiescence.  So  that  he 
had  his  books  and  his  quiet,  he  cared  for  no  more.  When 
companj^  came  to  Castlewood,  he  entertained  them  hand- 
somely, and  was  of  a  very  pleasant,  sarcastical  turn.  He 
was  not  in  the  least  sorry  when  they  went  away. 

"  My  love,  I  shall  not  be  sorry  to  go  myself,"  he  said 
to  his  daughter,  "  and  you,  though  the  most  affectionate 
of  daughters,  will  console  yourself  after  a  while.  Why 
should  I,  who  am  so  old,  be  romantic?  You  may,  who 
are  still  a  young  creature."  This  he  said,  not  mean- 
ing all  he  said,  for  the  lady  whom  he  addressed  was  a 
matter-of-fact  little  person,  with  very  little  romance  in 
her  nature. 

After  fifteen  years'  residence  upon  his  great  Virginian 
estate,  affairs  prospered  so  well  with  the  worthy  pro- 
prietor, that  he  acquiesced  in  his  daughter's  plans  for  the 
building  of  a  mansion  much  grander  and  more  durable 
than  the  plain  wooden  edifice  in  which  he  had  been  con- 
tent to  live,  so  that  his  heirs  might  have  a  habitation 
worthy  of  their  noble  name.  Several  of  Madam  War- 
rington's neighbours  had  built  handsome  houses  for 
themselves;  perhaps  it  was  her  ambition  to  take  rank 
in  the  country,  which  inspired  this  desire  for  improved 
quarters.  Colonel  Esmond,  of  Castlewood,  neither  cared 
for  quarters  nor  for  quarterings.  But  his  daughter  had 
a  very  high  opinion  of  the  merit  and  antiquity  of  her 


THE  VIRGINIANS  37 

lineage;  and  her  sire,  growing  exquisitely  calm  and 
good-natured  in  his  serene,  declining  years,  humoured 
his  child's  peculiarities  in  an  easy,  bantering  way,— nay, 
helped  her  with  his  antiquarian  learning,  which  was  not 
-inconsiderable,  and  with  his  skill  in  the  art  of  painting, 
of  which  he  was  a  proficient.  A  knowledge  of  heraldry, 
a  hundred  years  ago,  formed  part  of  the  education  of 
most  noble  ladies  and  gentlemen:  during  her  visit  to 
Europe,  Miss  Esmond  had  eagerly  studied  the  family 
history  and  pedigrees,  and  returned  thence  to  Virginia 
with  a  store  of  documents  relative  to  her  family  on  which 
she  relied  with  implicit  gravity  and  credence,  and  with 
the  most  edifying  volumes  then  published  in  France  and 
England,  respecting  the  noble  science.  These  works 
proved,  to  her  perfect  satisfaction,  not  only  that  the 
Esmonds  were  descended  from  noble  Norman  warriors, 
who  came  into  England  along  with  their  victorious  chief, 
but  from  native  English  of  royal  dignity:  and  two  mag- 
nificent heraldic  trees,  cunningly  painted  by  the  hand  of 
the  Colonel,  represented  the  family  springing  from  the 
Emperor  Charlemagne  on  the  one  hand,  who  was  drawn 
in  plate-armour,  with  his  imperial  mantle  and  diadem, 
and  on  the  other  from  Queen  Boadicea,  whom  the  Colo- 
nel insisted  upon  painting  in  the  light  costume  of  an 
ancient  British  queen,  with  a  prodigious  gilded  crown, 
a  trifling  mantle  of  furs,  and  a  lovely  symmetrical  per- 
son, tastefully  tattooed  with  figures  of  a  brilliant  blue 
tint.  From  these  two  illustrious  stocks  the  family-tree 
rose  until  it  united  in  the  thirteenth  century  somewhere 
in  the  person  of  the  fortunate  Esmond,  who  claimed  to 
spring  from  both. 

Of  the  Warrington  family,  into  which  she  married, 
good  Madam  Rachel  thought  but  little.    She  wrote  her- 


38  THE  VIRGINIANS 

self  Esmond  Warrington,  but  was  universally  called 
INIadani  Esmond  of  Castlevvood,  when,  after  her  father's 
decease,  she  came  to  rule  over  that  domain.  It  is  even 
to  be  feared  that  quarrels  for  precedence  in  the  colonial 
society  occasionally  disturbed  her  temper;  for,  though 
her  father  had  had  a  marquis's  patent  from  King  James, 
which  he  had  burned  and  disowned,  she  would  frequently 
act  as  if  that  document  existed  and  was  in  full  force. 
She  considered  the  English  Esmonds  of  an  inferior  dig- 
nity to  her  own  branch,  and  as  for  the  colonial  aristoc- 
racy, she  made  no  scruple  of  asserting  her  superiority 
over  the  whole  body  of  them.  Hence  quarrels  and  angry 
words,  and  even  a  scuffle  or  two,  as  we  gather  from  her 
notes,  at  the  Governor's  assemblies  at  James  Town. 
Wherefore  recall  the  memory  of  these  squabbles?  Are 
not  the  persons  who  engaged  in  them  beyond  the  reach 
of  quarrels  now,  and  has  not  the  republic  put  an  end  to 
these  social  inequalities?  Ere  the  establishment  of  Inde- 
pendence, there  was  no  more  aristocratic  country  in  the 
world  than  Virginia;  so  the  Virginians,  whose  history 
we  have  to  narrate,  were  bred  to  have  the  fullest  respect 
for  the  institutions  of  home,  and  the  rightful  king  had 
not  two  more  faithful  little  subjects  than  the  young 
twins  of  Castlewood. 

When  the  boys'  grandfather  died,  their  mother,  in 
great  state,  proclaimed  her  eldest  son  George  her  suc- 
cessor and  heir  of  the  estate;  and  Harry,  George's 
younger  brother  by  half  an  hour,  was  always  enjoined 
to  respect  his  senior.  All  the  household  was  equally  in- 
structed to  pay  him  honour :  the  negroes,  of  whom  there 
was  a  large  and  happy  family,  and  the  assigned  servants 
from  Europe,  whose  lot  was  made  as  bearable  as  it  might 
be  under  the  government  of  the  lady  of  Castlewood.    In 


THE  VIRGINIANS  39 

the  whole  family  there  scarcely  was  a  rebel  save 
]Mrs.  Esmond's  faithful  friend  and  companion,  Madam 
JNIountain,  and  Harry's  foster-mother,  a  faithful  negro 
woman,  who  never  could  be  made  to  understand  why 
4ier  child  should  not  be  first,  who  was  handsomer,  and 
stronger,  and  cleverer  than  his  brother,  as  she  vowed; 
though,  in  truth,  there  was  scarcely  any  difference  in  the 
beauty,  strength,  or  stature  of  the  twins.  In  disposition, 
they  were  in  many  points  exceedingly  unlike;  but  in 
feature  they  resembled  each  other  so  closely,  that,  but 
for  the  colour  of  their  hair,  it  had  been  difficult  to  dis- 
tinguish them.  In  their  beds,  and  when  their  heads  were 
covered  with  those  vast  ribboned  nightcaps  which  our 
great  and  little  ancestors  wore,  it  was  scarcely  possible 
for  any  but  a  nurse  or  a  mother  to  tell  the  one  from  the 
other  child. 

Howbeit,  alike  in  form,  we  have  said  that  they  differed 
in  temper.  The  elder  was  peaceful,  studious,  and  silent ; 
the  younger  was  warlike  and  noisy.  He  was  quick  at 
learning  when  he  began,  but  very  slow  at  beginning. 
No  threats  of  the  ferule  would  provoke  Harry  to  learn 
in  an  idle  fit,  or  would  prevent  George"  from  helping 
his  brother  in  his  lesson.  Harry  was  of  a  strong  military 
turn,  drilled  the  little  negroes  on  the  estate,  and  caned 
them  like  a  corporal,  having  many  good  boxing-matches 
with  them,  and  never  bearing  malice  if  he  was  worsted  ;— 
whereas  George  was  sparing  of  blows,  and  gentle  with 
all  about  him.  As  the  custom  in  all  families  was,  each 
of  the  boys  had  a  special  little  servant  assigned  him; 
and  it  was  a  known  fact  that  George,  finding  his  little 
wretch  of  a  blackamoor  asleep  on  his  mastei-'s  bed,  sat 
down  beside  it  and  bruslied  the  flies  off  the  child  with  a 
feather-fan,  to  the  horror  of  old  Gumbo,  the  child's 


\ 


40  THE  VIRGINIANS 

father,  who  found  his  young  master  so  engaged,  and 
to  the  indignation  of  Madam  Esmond,  who  ordered  the 
young  negro  off  to  the  proper  officer  for  a  whipping. 
In  vain  George  implored  and  entreated — burst  into  pas- 
sionate tears,  and  besought  a  remission  of  the  sentence. 
His  mother  was  inflexible  regarding  the  young  rebel's 
punishment,  and  the  little  negro  went  off  beseeching 
his  young  master  not  to  cry. 

A  fierce  quarrel  between  mother  and  son  ensued  out  of 
this  event.  Her  son  would  not  be  pacified.  He  said  the 
punishment  was  a  shame — a  shame;  that  he  was  the 
master  of  the  boy,  and  no  one— no,  not  his  mother- 
had  a  right  to  touch  him;  that  she  might  order  him  to 
be  corrected,  and  that  he  would  suffer  the  punishment, 
as  he  and  Harry  often  had,  but  no  one  should  lay  a 
hand  on  his  boy.  Trembling  with  passionate  rebellion 
against  what  he  conceived  the  injustice  of  the  procedure, 
he  vowed— actually  shrieking  out  an  oath,  which  shocked 
his  fond  mother  and  governor,  who  never  before  heard 
such  language  from  the  usually  gentle  child — that  on  the 
day  he  came  of  age  he  would  set  young  Gumbo  free — 
went  to  visit  the  child  in  the  slaves'  quarters,  and  gave 
him  one  of  his  own  toys. 

The  young  black  martyr  was  an  impudent,  lazy,  saucy 
little  personage,  who  would  be  none  the  worse  for  a  whip- 
ping, as  the  Colonel  no  doubt  thought ;  for  he  acquiesced 
in  the  child's  punishment  when  Madam  Esmond  insisted 
upon  it,  and  only  laughed  in  his  good-natured  way  when 
his  indignant  grandson  called  out — 

"  You  let  mamma  rule  you  in  everything,  grandpapa." 

"  Why,  so  I  do,"  says  grandpapa.  "  Rachel,  my  love, 
the  way  in  which  I  am  petticoat-ridden  is  so  evident  that 
even  this  baby  has  found  it  out." 


THE  VIRGINIANS  41 

"Then  why  don't  you  stand  up  like  a  man?"  says 
little  Harry,  who  always  was  ready  to  abet  his  brother. 

Grandpapa  looked  queerly. 

"  Because  I  like  sitting  down  best,  my  dear,"  he 
said.  "  I  am  an  old  gentleman,  and  standing  fatigues 
me." 

On  account  of  a  certain  apish  drollery  and  humour 
which  exhibited  itself  in  the  lad,  and  a  liking  for  some 
of  the  old  man's  pursuits,  the  first  of  the  twins  was  the 
grandfather's  favourite  and  companion,  and  would 
laugh  and  talk  out  all  his  infantine  heart  to  the  old  gen- 
tleman, to  whom  the  younger  had  seldom  a  word  to  say. 
George  was  a  demure  studious  boy,  and  his  senses  seemed 
to  brighten  up  in  the  library,  where  his  brother  was  so 
gloomy.  He  knew  the  books  before  he  could  well-nigh 
carry  them,  and  read  in  them  long  before  he  could  under- 
stand them.  Harry,  on  the  other  hand,  was  all  alive  in 
the  stables  or  in  the  wood,  eager  for  all  parties  of  hunt- 
ing and  fishing,  and  promised  to  be  a  good  sportsman 
from  a  very  early  age.  Their  grandfather's  sliip  was 
sailing  for  Europe  once  when  the  boys  were  children, 
and  thej^  were  asked,  what  present  Captain  Franks 
should  bring  them  back?  George  was  divided  between 
books  and  a  fiddle ;  Harry  instantly  declared  for  a  little 
gun:  and  Madam  Warrington  (as  she  then  was  called) 
was  hurt  that  her  elder  boy  should  have  low  tastes,  and 
applauded  the  younger's  choice  as  more  worthy  of  his 
name  and  lineage.  "  Books,  papa,  I  can  fancy  to  be  a 
good  choice,"  she  replied  to  her  father,  who  tried  to  con- 
vince her  that  George  had  a  right  to  his  opinion,  "  though 
I  am  sure  you  must  have  pretty  nigh  all  tlie  books  in  the 
world  already.  But  I  never  can  desire — I  may  be 
wrong,  but  I  never  can  desire — tliat  my  son,  and  tlie 


42  THE  VIRGINIANS 

grandson  of  the  Marquis  of  Esmond,  should  be  a  fid- 
dler." 

"  Should  be  a  fiddlestick,  my  dear,"  the  old  Colonel 
answered.  "  Remember  that  Heaven's  ways  are  not 
ours,  and  that  each  creature  born  has  a  little  kingdom  of 
thought  of  his  own,  which  it  is  a  sin  in  us  to  invade. 
Suppose  George  loves  music?  You  can  no  more  stop 
him  than  you  can  order  a  rose  not  to  smell  sweet,  or  a 
bird  not  to  sing." 

"  A  bird !  A  bird  sings  from  nature ;  George  did  not 
come  into  the  world  with  a  fiddle  in  his  hand,"  says  Mrs. 
Warrington,  with  a  toss  of  her  head.  "  I  am  sure  I 
hated  the  harpsichord  when  a  chit  at  Kensington  School, 
and  only  learned  it  to  please  my  mamma.  Say  what  you 
will,  dear  sir,  I  can  not  believe  that  this  fiddling  is  work 
for  persons  of  fashion." 

"  And  King  David  who  played  the  harp,  my  dear?  " 

*'  I  wish  my  papa  would  read  him  more,  and  not  speak 
about  him  in  that  way,"  said  Mrs.  Warrington. 

"  Nay,  my  dear,  it  was  but  by  way  of  illustration," 
the  father  replied  gently.  It  was  Colonel  Esmond's  na- 
ture, as  he  has  owned  in  his  own  biography,  always  to 
be  led  by  a  woman;  and,  his  wife  dead,  he  coaxed  and 
dandled  and  spoiled  his  daughter;  laughing  at  her  ca- 
prices, but  humouring  them;  making  a  joke  of  her 
prejudices,  but  letting  them  have  their  way;  indulging, 
and  perhaps  increasing,  her  natural  imperiousness  of 
character,  though  it  was  his  maxim  that  we  can't  change 
dispositions  by  meddling,  and  only  make  hypocrites  of 
our  children  by  commanding  them  over-much. 

At  length  the  time  came  when  Mr.  Esmond  was  to 
have  done  with  the  affairs  of  this  life,  and  he  laid  them 
down  as  if  glad  to  be  rid  of  their  burden.     We  must 


THE  VIRGINIANS  43 

Qot  ring  in  an  opening  history  with  tolhng  bells,  or  pre- 
face it  with  a  funeral  sermon.  All  who  read  and  heard 
that  discourse,  wondered  where  Parson  Broadbent  of 
James  Town  found  the  eloquence  and  the  Latin  which 
adorned  it.  Perhaps  Mr.  Dempster  knew,  the  boys' 
Scotch  tutor,  who  corrected  the  proofs  of  the  oration, 
which  was  printed,  by  desire  of  his  Excellency  and  many 
persons  of  honour,  at  INIr.  Franklin's  press  in  Philadel- 
phia. No  such  sumptuous  funeral  had  ever  been  seen 
in  the  country  as  that  which  Madam  Esmond  Warring- 
ton ordained  for  her  father,  who  would  have  been  the 
first  to  smile  at  that  pompous  grief.  The  little  lads  of 
Castlewood,  almost  smothered  in  black  trains  and  hat- 
bands, headed  the  procession,  and  were  followed  bj^  my 
Lord  Fairfax,  from  Greenway  Court,  by  his  Excel- 
lency the  Governor  of  Virginia  (with  his  coach),  by  the 
Randolphs,  the  Careys,  the  Harrisons,  the  Washingtons, 
and  many  others,  for  the  whole  county  esteemed  the 
departed  gentleman,  whose  goodness,  whose  high  talents, 
whose  benevolence  and  unobtrusive  urbanity  had  earned 
for  him  the  just  respect  of  his  neighbours.  When  in- 
formed of  the  event,  the  family  of  Colonel  Esmond's 
stepson,  the  Lord  Castlewood  of  Hampshire  in  England, 
asked  to  be  at  the  charges  of  the  marble  slab  which  re- 
corded the  names  and  virtues  of  his  lordship's  mother  and 
her  husband;  and  after  due  time  of  preparation,  the 
monument  was  set  up,  exhibiting  the  arms  and  coronet  of 
the  Esmonds,  supported  by  a  little  chubby  group  of 
weeping  cherubs,  and  reciting  an  epitaph  which  for  once 
did  not  tell  any  falsehoods. 


CHAPTER  IV 


IN   WHICH    HARRY    FINDS   A   NEW    RELATIVE 

IND  friends,  neigh 
hours  hospitable 
cordial,  even  re- 
spectful,— an  an- 
cient name,  a 
large  estate,  and 
a  sufficient  for- 
tune, a  comfort- 
ahle  home,  sup- 
plied with  all  the 
necessaries  and 
many  of  the  lux- 
uries of  life,  and 
a  troop  of  ser- 
vants, black  and 
white,  eager  to  do  your  bidding;  good  health,  affec- 
tionate children,  and,  let  us  humbly  add,  a  good  cook, 
cellar,  and  library — ought  not  a  person  in  the  possession 
of  all  these  benefits  to  be  considered  very  decently 
happy?  Madam  Esmond  Warrington  possessed  all 
these  causes  for  happiness;  she  reminded  herself  of 
them  daily  in  her  morning  and  evening  prayers.  She 
was  scrupulous  in  her  devotions,  good  to  the  poor,  never 
knowingly  did  anybody  a  wrong.  Yonder  I  fancy  her 
enthroned  in  her  principality  of  Castlewood,  the  country 

44 


THE  VIRGINIANS  45 

gentlefolks  paying  her  court,  the  sons  dutiful  to  her, 
the  domestics  tumbling  over  each  other's  black  heels  to 
do  her  bidding,  the  poor  whites  grateful  for  her  bounty 
and  implicitly  taking  her  doses  when  they  were  ill,  the 
cSmaller  gentry  always  acquiescing  in  her  remarks,  and 
for  ever  letting  her  win  at  backgammon— well,  with  all 
these  benefits,  which  are  more  sure  than  fate  allots  to 
most  mortals,  I  don't  think  the  little  Princess  Pocahon- 
tas, as  she  was  called,  was  to  be  envied  in  the  midst  of 
her  dominions.  The  Princess's  husband,  who  was  cut  off 
in  early  life,  was  as  well  perhaps  out  of  the  way.  Had 
he  survived  his  marriage  by  many  years,  they  would 
have  quarrelled  fiercely,  or  he  would  infallibly  have  been 
a  henpecked  husband,  of  which  sort  there  were  a  few 
specimens  still  extant  a  hundred  years  ago.  The  truth 
is,  little  ]Madam  Esmond  never  came  near  man  or 
woman,  but  she  tried  to  domineer  over  them.  If  people 
obeyed,  she  was  their  very  good  friend;  if  they  resisted, 
she  fought  and  fought  until  she  or  they  gave  in.  We 
are  all  miserable  sinners:  that's  a  fact  we  acknowledge 
in  public  every  Sunday — no  one  announced  it  in  a  more 
clear  resolute  voice  than  the  little  lady.  As  a  mortal, 
she  may  have  been  in  the  wrong,  of  course;  only  she 
very  seldom  acknowledged  the  circumstance  to  herself, 
and  to  others  never.  Her  father,  in  his  old  age,  used  to 
watch  her  freaks  of  despotism,  haughtiness,  and  stub- 
bornness, and  amuse  himself  with  them.  She  felt  that 
his  eye  was  upon  her;  his  humour,  of  whicli  quality  she 
possessed  little  herself,  subdued  and  bewildei-ed  her. 
But,  the  Colonel  gone,  there  was  nobody  else  wliom  she 
was  disposed  to  obey,— and  so  I  am  rather  glad  for  my 
part  that  I  did  not  live  a  hundred  years  ago  at  Castle- 
wood  in  Westmorland  County  in  Virginia.    I  fancy,  one 


46  THE  VIRGINIANS 

would  not  have  been  too  happy  there.  Happy,  who  is 
happy?  Was  not  there  a  serpent  in  Paradise  itself,  and 
if  Eve  had  been  perfectly  happy  beforehand,  would  she 
have  listened  to  him? 

The  management  of  the  house  of  Castlewood  had  been 
in  the  hands  of  the  active  little  lady  long  before  the 
Colonel  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just.  She  now  exercised  a 
rigid  supervision  over  the  estate;  dismissed  Colonel  Es- 
mond's English  factor  and  emploj^ed  a  new  one;  built, 
improved,  planted,  grew  tobacco,  appointed  a  new  over- 
seer, and  imported  a  new  tutor.  JNIuch  as  she  loved  her 
father,  there  were  some  of  his  maxims  by  which  she  was 
not  inclined  to  abide.  Had  she  not  obeyed  her  papa  and 
mamma  during  all  their  lives,  as  a  dutiful  daughter 
should?  So  ought  all  children  to  obey  their  parents, 
that  their  days  might  be  long  in  the  land.  The  little 
Queen  domineered  over  her  little  dominion,  and  the 
Princes  her  sons  were  onlj^  her  first  subjects.  Ere  long 
she  discontinued  her  husband's  name  of  Warrington,  and 
went  by  the  name  of  Madam  Esmond  in  the  country. 
Her  family  pretensions  were  known  there.  She  had  no 
objection  to  talk  of  the  Marquis's  title  which  King 
James  had  given  to  her  father  and  grandfather.  Her 
papa's  enormous  magnanimity  might  induce  him  to  give 
up  his  titles  and  rank  to  the  younger  branch  of  the  fam- 
ily, and  to  her  half-brother,  my  Lord  Castlewood  and 
his  children;  but  she  and  her  sons  were  of  the  elder 
branch  of  the  Esmonds,  and  she  expected  that  they 
should  be  treated  accordingly.  Lord  Fairfax  was  the 
only  gentleman  in  the  colony  of  Virginia  to  whom  she 
would  allow  precedence  over  her.  She  insisted  on  the 
pas  before  all  Lieutenant-Governors'  and  Judges'  la- 
dies; before  the  wife  of  the  Governor  of  a  colony  she 


THE  VIRGINIANS  47 

would,  of  course,  jaeld  as  to  the  representative  of  the 
Sovereign.  Accounts  are  extant,  in  the  family  papers 
and  letters,  of  one  or  two  tremendous  battles  which 
JNIadam  fought  with  the  wives  of  colonial  dignitaries 
%pon  these  questions  of  etiquette.  As  for  her  husband's 
family  of  Warrington,  they  were  as  naught  in  her  eyes. 
She  married  an  English  baronet's  younger  son  out  of 
Norfolk  to  please  her  parents,  whom  she  was  always 
bound  to  obe}^  At  the  earl}^  age  at  which  she  married— 
a  chit  out  of  a  boarding-school— she  would  have  jumped 
overboard  if  her  papa  had  ordered.  "  And  that  is  al- 
ways the  way  with  the  Esmonds,"  she  said. 

The  English  Warringtons  were  not  over-much  flat- 
tered by  the  little  American  Princess's  behaviour  to  them, 
and  her  manner  of  speaking  about  them.  Once  a  year  a 
solemn  letter  used  to  be  addressed  to  the  Warrington 
family,  and  to  her  noble  kinsmen  the  Hampshire  Es- 
monds ;  but  a  Judge's  lady  with  whom  ISIadam  Esmond 
had  quarrelled,  returning  to  England  out  of  Virginia, 
chanced  to  meet  Lady  Warrington,  who  was  in  London 
with  Sir  Miles  attending  Parliament,  and  this  person 
repeated  some  of  the  speeches  which  the  Princess  Poca- 
hontas was  in  the  habit  of  making  regarding  her  own 
and  her  husband's  English  relatives,  and  my  Lady  War- 
rington, I  suppose,  carried  the  story  to  my  I^ady  Cas- 
tlewood ;  after  whicli  the  letters  from  Virginia  were  not 
answered,  to  the  surprise  and  wrath  of  INIadam  Esmond, 
who  speedily  left  off'  writing  also. 

So  tliis  good  woman  fell  out  witli  her  neighbours,  with 
her  relatives,  and,  as  it  must  be  owned,  with  her  sons 
also. 

A  very  early  diff*erence  whicli  occurred  between  the 
Queen  and  Crown  Prince  arose  out  of  the  dismissal  of 


48  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Mr.  Dempster,  the  lad's  tutor  and  the  late  Colonel's  sec- 
retary. In  her  father's  life  Madam  Esmond  bore  him 
with  difficulty,  or  it  should  be  rather  said  Mr.  Dempster 
could  scarce  put  up  with  her.  She  was  jealous  of  books 
somehow,  and  thought  your  book-worms  dangerous 
folks,  insinuating  bad  j^rinciples.  She  had  heard  that 
Dempster  was  a  Jesuit  in  disguise,  and  the  poor  fellow 
was  obliged  to  go  build  himself  a  cabin  in  a  clearing,  and 
teach  school  and  practise  medicine  where  he  could  find 
customers  among  the  sparse  inhabitants  of  the  province. 
JNIaster  George  vowed  he  never  would  forsake  his  old 
tutor,  and  kept  his  promise.  Harry  had  always  loved 
fishing  and  sporting  better  than  books,  and  he  and  the 
poor  Dominie  had  never  been  on  terms  of  close  intimacy. 
Another  cause  of  dispute  presently  ensued. 

By  the  death  of  an  aunt,  and  at  his  father's  demise, 
the  heirs  of  Mr.  George  Warrington  became  entitled  to 
a  sum  of  six  thousand  pounds,  of  which  their  mother 
was  one  of  the  trustees.  She  never  could  be  made  to 
understand  that  she  was  not  the  proprietor,  and  not 
merely  the  trustee  of  this  money ;  and  was  furious  with 
the  London  lawyer,  the  other  trustee,  who  refused  to 
send  it  over  at  her  order.  "  Is  not  all  I  have  my  sons'?  " 
she  cried,  "  and  would  I  not  cut  myself  into  little  pieces 
to  serve  them?  With  the  six  thousand  pounds  I  would 
have  bought  Mr.  Boulter's  estate  and  negroes,  which 
would  have  given  us  a  good  thousand  pounds  a  year,  and 
made  a  handsome  provision  for  my  Harry."  Her  young 
friend  and  neighbour,  Mr.  Washington  of  Mount  Ver- 
non, could  not  convince  her  that  the  London  agent  was 
right,  and  must  not  give  up  his  trust  except  to  those  for 
whom  he  held  it.  Madam  Esmond  gave  the  London 
lawyer  a  piece  of  her  mind,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  in- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  49 

formed  Mr.  Draper  that  he  was  an  insolent  pettifogger, 
and  deserved  to  be  punished  for  doubting  the  honour  of 
a  mother  and  an  Esmond.  It  must  be  owned  that  the 
Virginian  Princess  had  a  temper  of  her  own. 
^  George  Esmond,  her  first-born,  when  this  little  matter 
was  referred  to  him,  and  his  mother  vehemently  insisted 
that  he  should  declare  himself,  was  of  the  opinion  of 
Mr.  Washington  and  Mr.  Draper,  the  London  lawyer. 
The  boy  said  he  could  not  help  himself.  He  did  not  want 
the  money:  he  would  be  very  glad  to  think  otherwise, 
and  to  give  the  money  to  his  mother,  if  he  had  the 
power.  But  Madam  Esmond  would  not  hear  any 
of  these  reasons.  Feelings  were  her  reasons.  Here 
was  a  chance  of  making  Harry's  fortune — dear 
Harry,  who  was  left  with  such  a  slender  younger 
brother's  pittance — and  the  wretches  in  London  would 
not  help  him;  his  own  brother,  who  inherited  all  her 
papa's  estate,  w^ould  not  help  him.  To  think  of  a  child 
of  hers  being  so  mean  at  fourteen  years  of  age!  &c.  &c. 
Add  tears,  scorn,  frequent  innuendo,  long  estrangement, 
bitter  outbreak,  passionate  appeals  to  heaven  and  the 
like,  and  we  may  fancy  the  widow's  state  of  mind.  Are 
there  not  beloved  beings  of  the  gentler  sex  who  argue 
in  the  same  way  now-a-days?  The  book  of  female  logic 
is  blotted  all  over  with  tears,  and  Justice  in  their  courts 
is  for  ever  in  a  passion. 

This  occurrence  set  the  widow  resolutely  saving  for 
her  younger  son,  for  whom,  as  in  duty  bound,  she  was 
eager  to  make  a  portion.  The  fine  buildings  were 
stopped  which  the  Colonel  had  commenced  at  Castle- 
wood,  who  had  freighted  ships  from  New  York  witli 
Dutch  bricks,  and  imported,  at  great  charges,  mantel- 
pieces, carved  cornice-work,  sashes  and  glass,  carpets  and 


50  THE  VIRGINIANS 

costly  upholstery  from  home.  No  more  books  were 
bought.  The  agent  had  orders  to  discontinue  sending 
wine.  Madam  Esmond  deeply  regretted  the  expense  of 
a  fine  carriage  which  she  had  had  from  England,  and 
only  rode  in  it  to  church  groaning  in  spirit,  and  crying  to 
the  sons  opposite  her,  "  Harry,  Harry!  I  wish  I  had  put 
by  the  money  for  thee,  my  poor  portionless  child — three 
hundred  and  eighty  guineas  of  ready  money  to  Messieurs 
Hatchett!" 

*'  You  will  give  me  plenty  while  you  live,  and  George 
will  give  me  plenty  when  you  die,"  says  Harry,  gaily. 

"  Not  unless  he  changes  in  spirit,  my  dear,"  says  the 
lady,  with  a  grim  glance  at  her  elder  boy.  "  Not  unless 
heaven  softens  his  heart  and  teaches  him  charity,  for 
which  I  pray  day  and  night;  as  Mountain  knows;  do 
you  not.  Mountain?  " 

Mrs.  Mountain,  Ensign  Mountain's  widow.  Madam 
Esmond's  companion  and  manager,  who  took  the  fourth 
seat  in  the  family  coach  on  these  Sundays,  said, 
"  Humph !  I  know  you  are  always  disturbing  yourself 
and  crying  out  about  this  legacy,  and  I  don't  see  that 
there  is  any  need." 

"  Oh,  no!  no  need! "  cries  the  widow,  rustling  in  her 
silks;  "  of  course  I  have  no  need  to  be  disturbed,  because 
my  eldest  born  is  a  disobedient  son  and  an  unkind 
brother — because  he  has  an  estate,  and  my  poor  Harry, 
bless  him,  but  a  mess  of  pottage." 

George  looked  despairingly  at  his  mother  until  he 
could  see  her  no  more  for  eyes  welled  up  with  tears.  "  I 
wish  you  would  bless  me,  too,  O  my  mother ! "  he  said, 
and  burst  into  a  passionate  fit  of  weeping.  Harry's  arms 
were  in  a  moment  round  his  brother's  neck,  and  he  kissed 
George  a  score  of  times. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  51 

"  Never  mind,  George.  I  know  whether  you  are  a 
good  brother  or  not.  Don't  mind  what  she  says.  She 
don't  mean  it." 

"  I  do  mean  it,  child,"  cries  the  mother.  "  Would  to 
Iteaven — " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  I  say!"  roars  out  Harry.  "  It's 
a  shame  to  speak  so  to  him,  ma'am." 

"  And  so  it  is,  Harry,"  says  JNIrs.  IMountain,  shaking 
his  hand.     "  You  never  said  a  truer  word  in  your  life." 

"  ]\Irs.  IMountain,  do  you  dare  to  set  my  children 
against  me?  "  cries  the  widow.  "  From  this  very  day, 
madam — " 

"  Turn  me  and  my  child  into  the  street?  Do,"  saj^s 
iMrs.  ^lountain.  "  That  will  be  a  fine  revenge  because 
the  English  lawyer  won't  give  you  the  boy's  money. 
Find  another  companion  who  will  tell  you  black  is  white, 
and  flatter  you :  it  is  not  my  way,  madam.  When  shall 
I  go  ?  I  shan't  be  long  a-packing.  I  did  not  bring  much 
into  Castlewood  House,  and  I  shall  not  take  much  out." 

"  Hush!  the  bells  are  ringing  for  church.  Mountain. 
Let  us  try,  if  you  please,  and  compose  ourselves,"  said 
the  widow,  and  she  looked  with  eyes  of  extreme  affection, 
certainly  at  one — perhaps  at  both — of  her  children. 
George  kept  his  head  down,  and  Harry,  who  was  near, 
got  quite  close  to  him  during  the  sermon,  and  sat  with 
his  arm  round  his  brother's  neck. 

Harry  had  proceeded  in  his  narrative  after  his  own 
fashion,  interspersing  it  with  many  youthful  ejacula- 
tions, and  answering  a  number  of  incidental  questions 
asked  by  his  listener.  The  old  lady  seemed  never  tired 
of  hearing  him.  Her  amiable  liostcss  and  her  daugliters 
came  more  than  once,  to  ask  if  she  would  ride,  or  walk, 


52  THE  VIRGINIANS 

or  take  a  dish  of  tea,  or  play  a  game  at  cards;  but  all 
these  amusements  IMadame  Bernstein  declined,  saying 
that  she  found  infinite  amusement  in  Harry's  conversa- 
tion. Especially  when  any  of  the  Castlewood  family 
were  present,  she  redoubled  her  caresses,  insisted  upon 
the  lad  speaking  close  to  her  ear,  and  would  call  out 
to  the  others,  "  Hush,  my  dears!  I  can't  hear  our  cousin 
speak."  And  they  would  quit  the  room,  striving  still 
to  look  pleased. 

"  Are  you  my  cousin  too?  "  asked  the  honest  boy. 
"  You  seem  kinder  than  my  other  cousins." 

Their  talk  took  place  in  the  wainscoted  parlour,  where 
the  family  had  taken  their  meals  in  ordinary  for  at  least 
two  centuries  past,  and  which,  as  we  have  said,  was  hung 
with  portraits  of  the  race.  Over  Madame  Bernstein's 
great  chair  was  a  Kneller,  one  of  the  most  brilliant  pic- 
tures of  the  gallery,  representing  a  young  lady  of  three 
or  four  and  twenty,  in  the  easy  flowing  dress  and  loose 
robes  of  Queen  Anne's  time — a  hand  on  a  cushion  near 
her,  a  quantity  of  auburn  hair  parted  oiF  a  fair  forehead, 
and  flowing  over  pearly  shoulders  and  a  lovely  neck. 
Under  this  sprightly  picture  the  lady  sat  with  her  knit- 
ting-needles. 

When  Harry  asked,  "Are  you  my  cousin,  too?" 
she  said,  "  That  picture  is  by  Sir  Godfrey,  who  thought 
himself  the  greatest  painter  in  the  world.  But  he  was 
not  so  good  as  Lely,  who  painted  your  grandmother — 
my— my  Lady  Castlewood,  Colonel  Esmond's  wife; 
nor  he  so  good  as  Sir  Anthony  Van  Dyck,  who  painted 
your  great-grandfather,  yonder— and  who  looks,  Harry, 
a  much  finer  gentleman  than  he  was.  Some  of  us 
are  painted  blacker  than  we  are.  Did  you  recog- 
nise your  grandmother  in  that  picture?     She  had  the 


THE  VIRGINIANS  53 

loveliest   fair  hair  and   shape   of  any  woman   of  her 
time." 

"  I  fancied  I  knew  the  portrait  from  instinct,  perhaps, 
and  a  certain  likeness  to  my  mother." 
"  "Did  Mrs.  Warrington— I  beg  her  pardon,  I  think 
she  calls  herself  Madam  or  my  Lady  Esmond  now  . . .  ?  " 

"  They  call  my  mother  so  in  our  province,"  said  the 
boy. 

"  Did  she  never  tell  you  of  another  daughter  her 
mother  had  in  England,  before  she  married  your  grand- 
father? " 

"  She  never  spoke  of  one." 

"  Nor  your  grandfather?  " 

"  Never.  But  in  his  picture-books,  which  he  con- 
stantly made  for  us  children,  he  used  to  draw  a  head  very 
like  that  above  your  ladyship.  That,  and  Viscount 
Francis,  and  King  James  III.,  he  drew  a  score  of  times, 
I  am  sure." 

"  And  the  picture  over  me  reminds  you  of  no  one, 
Harry?" 

"  No,  indeed." 

"  Ah !  Here  is  a  sermon !  "  says  the  lady,  with  a  sigh. 
"  Harry,  that  was  my  face  once— yes,  it  was— and  then 
I  was  called  Beatrix  Esmond.  And  your  mother  is  my 
half-sister,  child,  and  she  has  never  even  mentioned  my 
name ! " 


CHAPTER  V 


FAMILY    JARS 


Harry  Warring- 
ton related  to  his 
new-found  rela- 
tive the  simple 
story  of  his  ad- 
ventures at  home, 
no  doubt  Madam 
Bernstein,  who 
possessed  a  great 
sense  of  humour 
and  a  remarkable 
knowledge  of  the 
world,  formed 
her  judgment  re- 
specting the  per- 
sons and  events 
described ;  and  if 
her  opinion  was  not  in  all  respects  favourable,  what  can 
be  said  but  that  men  and  women  are  imperfect,  and  hu- 
man life  not  entirely  pleasant  or  profitable?  The  court 
and  city-bred  lady  recoiled  at  the  mere  thought  of  her 
American  sister's  countryfied  existence.  Such  a  life 
would  be  rather  wearisome  to  most  city-bred  ladies.  But 
little  IVIadam  Warrington  knew  no  better,  and  was  satis- 
fied with  her  life,  as  indeed  she  was  with  herself  in  gen- 
eral.   Because  you  and  I  are  epicures  or  dainty  feeders, 

54 


THE  VIRGINIANS  55 

it  does  not  follow  that  Hodge  is  miserable  with  his 
homely  meal  of  bread  and  bacon.  JNIadam  Warrington 
had  a  life  of  duties  and  employments  which  might  be 
hum-drum,  but  at  any  rate  were  pleasant  to  her.  She  was 
%  brisk  little  woman  of  business,  and  all  the  affairs  of  her 
large  estate  came  under  her  cognizance.  No  pie  was 
baked  at  Castlewood  but  her  little  finger  was  in  it.  She 
set  the  maids  to  their  spinning,  she  saw  the  kitchen 
wenches  at  their  work,  she  trotted  a-field  on  her  pony, 
and  oversaw  the  overseers  and  the  negro  hands  as  they 
worked  in  the  tobacco  and  corn  fields.  If  a  slave  was  ill, 
she  would  go  to  his  quarters  in  any  weather,  and  doctor 
him  with  great  resolution.  She  had  a  book  full  of  re- 
ceipts after  the  old  fashion,  and  a  closet  where  she  dis- 
tilled waters  and  compounded  elixirs,  and  a  medicine- 
chest  which  was  the  terror  of  her  neighbours.  They 
trembled  to  be  ill,  lest  the  little  lady  should  be  upon  them 
with  her  decoctions  and  her  pills. 

A  hundred  years  back  there  were  scarce  any  towns  in 
Virginia;  the  establishments  of  the  gentry  were  little 
villages  in  which  they  and  their  vassals  dwelt.  Rachel 
Esmond  ruled  like  a  little  queen  in  Castlewood;  the 
princes,  her  neighbours,  governed  their  estates  round- 
a])ont.  Many  of  these  were  rather  needy  potentates,  liv- 
ing plentifully  but  in  the  roughest  fashion,  liaving  nu- 
merous domestics  whose  liveries  were  often  ragged; 
keeping  open  houses,  and  turning  away  no  stranger 
from  their  gates;  proud,  idle,  fond  of  all  sorts  of  field- 
sports  as  became  gentlemen  of  good  lineage.  The  wido^^• 
of  Castlewood  was  as  h()S])ita})le  as  her  neighbours,  and 
a  better  economist  tlian  most  of  them.  More  than  one, 
no  doubt,  would  have  liad  no  o])jection  to  share  lier  life- 
interest  in  the  estate,  and  supply  the  place  of  papa  to 


56  THE  VIRGINIANS 

her  boys.  But  where  was  the  man  good  enough  for  a 
person  of  her  ladyship's  exalted  birth  ?  There  was  a  talk 
of  making  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  viceroy,  or  even 
king,  over  America.  Madam  Warrington's  gossips 
laughed,  and  said  she  was  waiting  for  him.  She  re- 
marked, with  much  gravity  and  dignity,  that  persons  of 
as  high  birth  as  his  Royal  Highness  had  made  offers  of 
alliance  to  the  Esmond  family. 

She  had,  as  lieutenant  under  her,  an  officer's  widow 
who  has  been  before  named,  and  who  had  been  Madam 
Esmond's  companion  at  school,  as  her  late  husband  had 
been  the  regimental  friend  of  the  late  Mr.  Warrington. 
When  the  English  girls  at  the  Kensington  Academy, 
where  Rachel  Esmond  had  her  education,  teased  and 
tortured  the  little  American  stranger,  and  laughed  at 
the  princified  airs  which  she  gave  herself  from  a  very 
early  age,  Fanny  Parker  defended  and  befriended  her. 
They  both  married  ensigns  in  Kingsley's.  They  became 
tenderly  attached  to  each  other.  It  was  "  my  Fanny  " 
and  "  my  Rachel "  in  the  letters  of  the  young  ladies. 
Then,  my  Fanny's  husband  died  in  sad  out-at-elbowed 
circumstances,  leaving  no  provision  for  his  widow  and 
her  infant;  and,  in  one  of  his  annual  voyages.  Captain 
Franks  brought  over  Mrs.  Mountain,  in  the  "  Young 
Rachel,"  to  Virginia. 

There  was  plenty  of  room  in  Castlewood  House,  and 
Mrs.  Mountain  served  to  enliven  the  place.  She  played 
cards  with  the  mistress:  she  had  some  knowledge  of 
music,  and  could  help  the  eldest  boy  in  that  way:  she 
laughed  and  was  pleased  with  the  guests:  she  saw  to 
the  strangers'  chambers,  and  presided  over  the  presses 
and  the  linen.  She  was  a  kind,  brisk,  jolly-looking 
widow,  and  more  than  one  unmarried  gentleman  of  the 


THE  VIRGINIANS  57 

colony  asked  her  to  change  her  name  for  his  own.  But 
she  chose  to  keep  that  of  JNIountain,  though,  and  perhaps 
because,  it  had  brought  her  no  good  fortune.  One  mar- 
riage was  enough  for  her,  she  said.  Mr.  INIountain  had 
amiably  spent  her  little  fortune  and  his  own.  Her  last 
trinkets  went  to  pay  his  funeral ;  and,  as  long  as  Madam 
Warrington  would  keep  her  at  Castlewood,  she  pre- 
ferred a  home  without  a  husband  to  any  which  as  yet  had 
been  offered  to  her  in  Virginia.  The  two  ladies  quar- 
relled plentifully ;  but  thej^  loved  each  other :  they  made 
up  their  diiFerences:  they  fell  out  again,  to  be  recon- 
ciled presently.  When  either  of  the  boys  was  ill,  each 
lady  vied  with  the  other  in  maternal  tenderness  and  care. 
In  his  last  days  and  illness,  Mrs.  Mountain's  cheerful- 
ness and  kindness  had  been  greatly  appreciated  by  the 
Colonel,  whose  memory  Madam  Warrington  regarded 
more  than  that  of  any  living  person.  So  that,  year  after 
year,  when  Captain  Franks  would  ask  Mrs.  INIountain, 
in  his  pleasant  way,  whether  she  was  going  back  with 
him  that  voyage?  she  would  decline,  and  say  that  she 
proposed  to  stay  a  year  more. 

And  when  suitors  came  to  INIadam  Warrington,  as 
come  the}''  would,  she  would  receive  their  compliments 
and  attentions  kindly  enough,  and  asked  more  than  one 
of  these  lovers  whether  it  was  Mrs.  ]\Iountain  he  came 
after?  She  would  use  her  best  offices  with  Mountain. 
Fanny  was  the  best  creature,  was  of  a  good  Knglisli 
family,  and  would  make  any  gentleman  happy.  Did 
the  Squire  declare  it  was  to  her  and  not  her  de])endant 
that  he  paid  his  addresses;  she  would  make  him  her 
gravest  curtsey,  say  that  she  really  had  been  utterly 
mistaken  as  to  his  views,  and  let  him  know  that  the 
daughter  of  the  Marquis  of  Esmond  lived  for  her  people 


58  THE  VIRGINIANS 

and  her  sons,  and  did  not  propose  to  change  her  condi- 
tion. Have  we  not  read  how  Queen  Eihzabeth  was  a 
perfectly  sensible  woman  of  business,  and  was  pleased 
to  inspire  not  only  terror  and  awe,  but  love  in  the  bosoms 
of  her  subjects?  So  the  little  Virginian  princess  had 
her  favourites,  and  accepted  their  flatteries,  and  grew 
tired  of  them,  and  was  cruel  or  kind  to  them  as  suited  her 
wayward  imperial  humour.  There  was  no  amovmt  of 
compliment  which  she  would  not  graciously  receive  and 
take  as  her  due.  Her  little  foible  was  so  well  known  that 
the  wags  used  to  practise  upon  it.  Rattling  Jack  Fire- 
brace  of  Henrico  county  had  free  quarters  for  months  at 
Castlewood,  and  was  a  prime  favourite  with  the  lady 
there,  because  he  addressed  verses  to  her  which  he  stole 
out  of  the  pocket-books.  Tom  Humbold  of  Spotsyl- 
vania wagered  fifty  hogsheads  against  five  that  he  would 
make  her  institute  an  order  of  knighthood,  and  won  his 
wager. 

The  elder  boy  saw  these  freaks  and  oddities  of  his 
good  mother's  disposition,  and  chafed  and  raged  at 
them  privately.  From  very  early  days  he  revolted  when 
flatteries  and  compliments  were  paid  to  the  little  lady, 
and  strove  to  expose  them  with  his  juvenile  satire;  so 
that  his  mother  would  say  gravely,  "  The  Esmonds  were 
always  of  a  jealous  disposition,  and  my  poor  boy  takes 
after  my  father  and  mother  in  this."  George  hated  Jack 
Firebrace  and  Tom  Humbold,  and  all  their  like ;  whereas 
Harry  went  out  sporting  with  them,  and  fowling,  and 
fishing,  and  cock-fighting,  and  enjoyed  all  the  fun  of 
the  country. 

One  winter,  after  their  first  tutor  had  been  dismissed, 
Madam  Esmond  took  them  to  Williamsburg,  for  such 
education  as  the  schools  and  college  there  afforded,  and 


The  Family  Pew 


THE  VIRGINIANS  59 

there  it  was  the  fortune  of  the  famil}^  to  listen  to  the 
preaching  of  the  famous  Mr.  Whitfield,  who  had  come 
into  Virginia,  where  the  habits  and  preaching  of  the 
established  clergy  were  not  very  edifying.  Unlike  many 
6f  the  neighbouring  provinces,  Virginia  was  a  Church 
of  England  colony:  the  clergymen  were  paid  by  the 
State  and  had  glebes  allotted  to  them ;  and,  there  being 
no  Church  of  England  bishop  as  yet  in  America,  the 
colonists  were  obliged  to  import  their  divines  from  the 
mother-country.  Such  as  came  were  not,  naturally,  of 
the  very  best  or  most  eloquent  kind  of  pastors.  Noble- 
men's hangers-on,  insolvent  parsons  who  had  quarrelled 
with  justice  or  the  bailiff,  brought  their  stained  cassocks 
into  the  colony  in  the  hopes  of  finding  a  living  there. 
No  wonder  that  Whitfield's  great  voice  stirred  those 
whom  harmless  Mr.  Broadbent,  the  Williamsburg  chap- 
lain, never  could  awaken.  At  first  the  boys  were  as 
much  excited  as  their  mother  by  Mr.  Whitfield:  they 
sang  hymns,  and  listened  to  him  with  fervour,  and, 
could  he  have  remained  long  enough  among  them,  Harry 
and  George  had  both  worn  black  coats  probably  instead 
of  epaulettes.  The  simple  boys  communicated  their  ex- 
periences to  one  another,  and  were  on  the  daily  and 
nightly  look  out  for  the  sacred  "  call,"  in  the  hope  or  the 
possession  of  which  such  a  vast  multitude  of  Protestant 
England  was  thrilling  at  the  time. 

But  Mr.  Whitfield  could  not  stay  always  with  the 
little  congregation  of  Williamsburg.  His  mission  was 
to  enlighten  the  whole  benighted  people  of  the  Churcli, 
and  from  the  East  to  the  West  to  trumpet  the  trutli 
and  bid  slumbering  sinners  awaken.  However,  lie  com- 
forted the  widow  with  precious  letters,  and  promised  to 
send  her  a  tutor  for  her  sons  who  should  be  capable  of 


60  THE  VIRGINIANS 

teaching  them  not  only  profane  learning,  but  of 
strengthening  and  confirming  them  in  science  much 
more  precious. 

In  due  course,  a  chosen  vessel  arrived  from  England. 
Young  ]Mr.  Ward  had  a  voice  as  loud  as  Mr.  Whitfield's, 
and  could  talk  almost  as  readily  and  for  as  long  a  time. 
Night  and  evening  the  hall  sounded  with  his  exhorta- 
tions. The  domestic  negroes  crept  to  the  doors  to  listen 
to  him.  Other  servants  darkened  the  porch  windows 
with  their  crisp  heads  to  hear  him  discourse.  It  was  over 
the  black  sheep  of  the  Castlewood  flock  that  Mr.  Ward 
somehow  had  the  most  influence.  These  woolly  lamb- 
lings  were  immensely  affected  by  his  exhortations,  and, 
when  he  gave  out  the  hymn,  there  was  such  a  negro 
chorus  about  the  house  as  might  be  heard  across  the 
Potomac — such  a  chorus  as  would  never  have  been  heard 
in  the  Colonel's  time — for  that  worthy  gentleman  had  a 
suspicion  of  all  cassocks,  and  said  he  would  never  have 
any  controversy  with  a  clergyman  but  upon  backgam- 
mon. Where  money  was  wanted  for  charitable  purposes 
no  man  was  more  ready,  and  the  good,  easy  Virginian 
clergyman,  who  loved  backgammon  heartily,  too,  said 
that  the  worthy  Colonel's  charity  must  cover  his  other 
shortcomings. 

Ward  was  a  handsome  young  man.  His  preaching 
pleased  Madam  Esmond  from  the  first,  and,  I  dare  say, 
satisfied  her  as  much  as  Mr.  Whitfield's.  Of  course  it 
cannot  be  the  case  at  the  present  day  when  they  are  so 
finely  educated,  but  women,  a  hundred  years  ago,  were 
credulous,  eager  to  admire  and  believe,  and  apt  to 
imagine  all  sorts  of  excellences  in  the  object  of  their 
admiration.  For  weeks,  nay,  months,  Madam  Esmond 
was  never  tired  of  hearing  Mr.  Ward's  great  glib  voice 


THE  VIRGINIANS  61 

and  voluble  common-places:  and,  according  to  her 
wont,  she  insisted  that  her  neighbours  should  come  and 
listen  to  him,  and  ordered  them  to  be  converted.  Her 
young  favourite,  ]Mr.  Washington,  she  was  especially 
canxious  to  influence;  and  again  and  again  pressed  him 
to  come  and  stay  at  Castlewood  and  benefit  by  the  spir- 
itual advantages  there  to  be  obtained.  But  that  j^oung 
gentleman  found  he  had  particular  business  which  called 
him  home  or  away  from  home,  and  always  ordered  his 
horse  of  evenings  when  the  time  was  coming  for  IMr. 
Ward's  exercises.  And — what  boys  are  just  towards 
their  pedagogue? — the  twins  grew  speedily  tired  and 
even  rebellious  under  their  new  teacher. 

They  found  him  a  bad  scholar,  a  dull  fellow,  and  ill 
bred  to  boot.  George  knew  much  more  Latin  and 
Greek  than  his  master,  and  caught  him  in  perpetual 
blunders  and  false  quantities.  Harry,  who  could  take 
much  greater  liberties  than  were  allowed  to  his  elder 
brother,  mimicked  Ward's  manner  of  eating  and  talking, 
so  that  JNIrs.  Mountain  and  even  Madam  Esmond  were 
forced  to  laugh,  and  little  Fanny  Mountain  would  crow 
with  delight.  Madam  Esmond  would  have  foimd  the 
fellow  out  for  a  vulgar  quack  but  for  her  son's  opposi- 
tion, which  she,  on  her  part,  opposed  with  her  own  indom- 
itable will.  "  What  matters  whether  he  has  more  or  less 
of  profane  learning?  "  she  asked;  "  in  that  which  is  most 
precious,  Mr.  W.  is  able  to  be  a  teacher  to  all  of  us. 
What  if  his  manners  are  a  little  rough?  Heaven  does 
not  choose  its  elect  from  among  the  great  and  wealthy. 
I  wish  you  knew  one  book,  children,  as  well  as  Mr.  Ward 
does.  It  is  your  wicked  pride— the  pride  of  all  the  ]^^s- 
monds— which  prevents  you  from  listening  to  him.  CrO 
down  on  your  knees  in  your  chamber  and  i)ray  to  be 


62  THE  VIRGINIANS 

corrected  of  that  dreadful  fault."  Ward's  discourse  that 
evening  was  about  Naaman  the  Syrian,  and  the  pride 
he  had  in  his  native  rivers  of  Abana  and  Pharpar,  which 
he  vainly  imagined  to  be  superior  to  the  healing  waters 
of  Jordan— the  moral  being,  that  he,  Ward,  was  the 
keeper  and  guardian  of  the  undoubted  waters  of  Jordan, 
and  that  the  unhappy,  conceited  boys  must  go  to  perdi- 
tion unless  they  came  to  him. 

George  now  began  to  give  way  to  a  wicked  sarcastic 
method,  which,  perhaps,  he  had  inherited  from  his  grand- 
father, and  with  which,  when  a  quiet,  skilful  young  per- 
son chooses  to  employ  it,  he  can  make  a  whole  family 
uncomfortable.  He  took  up  Ward's  pompous  remarks 
and  made  jokes  of  them,  so  that  that  young  divine  chafed 
and  almost  choked  over  his  great  meals.  He  made 
Madam  Esmond  angry,  and  doubly  so  when  he  sent  off 
Harry  into  fits  of  laughter.  Her  authority  was  defied, 
her  officer  scorned  and  insulted,  her  youngest  child  per- 
verted, by  the  obstinate  elder  brother.  She  made  a  des- 
perate and  unhappy  attempt  to  maintain  her  power. 

The  boys  were  fourteen  years  of  age,  Harrj^  being 
taller  and  much  more  advanced  than  his  brother,  who 
was  delicate,  and  as  yet  almost  child-like  in  stature  and 
appearance.  The  baculine  method  was  a  quite  common 
mode  of  argument  in  those  days.  Serjeants,  school- 
masters, slave-overseers,  used  the  cane  freely.  Our  little 
boys  had  been  horsed  many  a  day  by  Mr.  Dempster, 
their  Scotch  tutor,  in  their  grandfather's  time;  and 
Harry,  especially,  had  got  to  be  quite  accustomed  to  the 
practice,  and  made  very  light  of  it.  But,  in  the  inter- 
regnum after  Colonel  Esmond's  death,  the  cane  had 
been  laid  aside,  and  the  young  gentlemen  at  Castlewood 
had  been  allowed  to  have  their  own  way.    Her  own  and 


THE  VIRGINIANS  63 

her  lieutenant's  authoritj^  being  now  spurned  by  the 
youthful  rebels,  the  unfortunate  mother  thought  of  re- 
storing it  by  means  of  coercion.  She  took  counsel  of  Mr. 
^Ward.  That  athletic  young  pedagogue  could  easily 
find  chapter  and  verse  to  warrant  the  course  which  he 
wished  to  pursue,— in  fact,  there  was  no  doubt  about  the 
wholesomeness  of  the  practice  in  those  days.  He  had 
begun  by  flattering  the  boys,  finding  a  good  berth  and 
snug  quarters  at  Castlewood,  and  hoping  to  remain 
there.  But  they  laughed  at  his  flattery,  thej^  scorned 
his  bad  manners,  they  yawned  soon  at  his  sermons;  the 
more  their  mother  favoured  him,  the  more  they  disliked 
him;  and  so  the  tutor  and  the  pupils  cordially  hated 
each  other.  Mrs.  JMountain,  who  was  the  boys'  friend, 
especially  George's  friend,  whom  she  thought  unjustly 
treated  by  his  mother,  warned  the  lads  to  be  pinident, 
and  that  some  conspiracy  was  hatching  against  them. 
"  Ward  is  more  obsequious  than  ever  to  your  mamma. 
It  turns  my  stomach,  it  does,  to  hear  him  flatter,  and  to 
see  him  gobble — the  odious  wretch!  You  must  be  on 
your  guard,  my  poor  boys — you  must  learn  your  lessons, 
and  not  anger  your  tutor.  A  mischief  will  come,  I  know 
it  will.  Your  mamma  was  talking  about  you  to  Mr. 
Washington  the  other  day,  when  I  came  into  the  room. 
I  don't  like  that  Major  Washington,  you  know  I  don't. 
Don't  say — O  Mounty!  Master  Harry.  You  always 
stand  up  for  your  friends,  you  do.  The  Major  is  very 
handsome  and  tall,  and  he  may  be  very  good,  but  he  is 
much  too  old  a  young  man  for  me.  Bless  you,  my  dears, 
the  quantity  of  wild  oats  your  father  sowed  and  my  own 
poor  Mountain  wlien  tliey  were  Ensigns  in  Kingsley's, 
would  fill  sacks  full!  Show  me  Mr.  Washington's  wild 
oats,  I  say— not  a  grain!    Well,  I  happened  to  step  in 


04  THE  VIRGINIANS 

last  Tuesday,  when  he  was  here  with  your  mamma ;  and 
I  am  sure  they  were  talking  about  you,  for  he  said,  "  Dis- 
cipline is  discipline,  and  must  be  preserved.  There  can 
be  but  one  command  in  a  house,  ma'am,  and  you  must  be 
the  mistress  of  yours." 

"  The  very  words  he  used  to  me,"  cries  Harry.  "  He 
told  me  that  he  did  not  like  to  meddle  with  other  folks' 
affairs,  but  that  our  mother  was  very  angry,  dangerously 
angry,  he  said,  and  he  begged  me  to  obey  Mr.  Ward,  and 
specially  to  press  George  to  do  so." 

"  Let  him  manage  his  own  house,  not  mine,"  says 
George,  very  haughtily.  And  the  caution,  far  from 
benefiting  him,  only  rendered  the  lad  more  supercilious 
and  refractory. 

On  the  next  day  the  storm  broke,  and  vengeance  fell 
on  the  little  rebel's  head.  Words  passed  between  George 
and  Mr.  Ward  during  the  morning  study.  The  boy 
was  quite  insubordinate  and  unjust:  even  his  faithful 
brother  cried  out,  and  owned  that  he  was  in  the  wrong. 
Mr.  Ward  kept  his  temper— to  compress,  bottle  up,  cork 
down,  and  prevent  your  anger  from  present  furious  ex- 
plosion, is  called  keeping  your  temper — and  said  he 
should  speak  upon  this  business  to  Madam  Esmond. 
When  the  family  met  at  dinner,  Mr.  Ward  requested  her 
ladyship  to  stay,  and,  temperately  enough,  laid  the  sub- 
ject of  dispute  before  her. 

He  asked  Master  Harry  to  confirm  what  he  had  said : 
and  poor  Harry  was  obliged  to  admit  all  the  Dominie's 
statements. 

George,  standing  under  his  grandfather's  portrait  by 
the  chimney,  said  haughtily  that  what  Mr.  Ward  had 
said  was  perfectly  correct. 

"  To  be  a  tutor  to  such  a  pupil  is  absurd,"  said  Mr. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  65 

Ward,  making  a  long  speech,  interspersed  with  many 
of  his  usual  Scripture  phrases,  at  each  of  which,  as  they 
occurred,  that  wicked  j^oung  George  smiled,  and  pished 
scornfully,  and  at  length  Ward  ended  by  asking  her 
'honour's  leave  to  retire. 

"  Not  before  you  have  punished  this  wicked  and  dis- 
obedient child,"  said  Madam  Esmond,  who  had  been 
gathering  anger  during  Ward's  harangue,  and  especially 
at  her  son's  behaviour. 

"  Punish!  "  says  George. 

"Yes,  sir,  punish!  If  means  of  love  and  entreaty 
fail,  as  they  have  with  your  proud  heart,  other  means 
must  be  found  to  bring  you  to  obedience.  I  punish  you 
now,  rebellious  boy,  to  guard  j'ou  from  greater  punish- 
ment hereafter.  The  discipline  of  this  family  must  be 
maintained.  There  can  be  but  one  command  in  a  house, 
and  I  must  be  the  mistress  of  mine.  You  will  punish  this 
refractory  boy,  Mr.  Ward,  as  we  have  agreed  tliat  you 
should  do,  and  if  there  is  the  least  resistance  on  his  part, 
my  overseer  and  servants  will  lend  you  aid." 

In  some  such  words  the  widow  no  doubt  must  have 
spoken,  but  with  many  vehement  Scriptural  allusions, 
which  it  does  not  become  this  chronicler  to  copy.  To  be 
for  ever  applying  to  the  Sacred  Oracles,  and  acconmio- 
dating  their  sentences  to  your  purpose — to  be  for  ever 
taking  heaven  into  your  confidence  about  your  private 
affairs,  and  passionately  calh'ng  for  its  interference  in 
your  family  quarrels  and  difficulties — to  be  so  familiar 
with  its  designs  and  schemes  as  to  be  able  to  threaten 
your  neighbour  with  its  thunders,  and  to  know  ])recisely 
its  intentions  regarding  him  and  others  who  differ  from 
your  infalh})le  o])inion  — this  was  tlie  schooling  which  our 
simple  widow  had  received  from  lier  impetuous  young 


66  THE  VIRGINIANS 

spiritual  guide,  and  I  doubt  whether  it  brought  her  much 
comfort. 

In  the  midst  of  his  mother's  harangue,  in  spite  of  it 
perhaps,  George  Esmond  felt  he  had  been  wrong. 
"  There  can  be  but  one  command  in  the  house,  and  you 
must  be  mistress — I  know  who  said  those  words  before 
you,"  George  said,  slowly,  and  looking  very  white — 
"  and— and  I  know,  mother,  that  I  have  acted  wrongly 
to  Mr.  Ward." 

"  He  owns  it !  He  asks  pardon ! "  cries  Harry.  "  That's 
right,  George!     That's  enough:    isn't  it?" 

"  No,  it  is  not  enough !  "  cried  the  little  woman.  "  The 
disobedient  boy  must  pay  the  penalty  of  his  disobedience. 
When  I  was  headstrong,  as  I  sometimes  was  as  a  child 
before  my  spirit  was  changed  and  humbled,  my  mamma 
punished  me,  and  I  submitted.  So  must  George.  I 
desire  you  will  do  your  duty,  Mr.  Ward." 

"  Stop,  mother! — you  don't  quite  know  what  you  are 
doing,"  George  said,  exceedingly  agitated. 

"  I  know  that  he  who  spares  the  rod  spoils  the  child, 
ungrateful  boy!  "  says  Madam  Esmond,  with  more  ref- 
erences of  the  same  nature,  which  George  heard,  looking 
very  pale  and  desperate. 

Upon  the  mantelpiece,  under  the  Colonel's  portrait, 
stood  a  china-cup,  by  which  the  widow  set  great  store, 
as  her  father  had  always  been  accustomed  to  drink  from 
it.  George  suddenly  took  it,  and  a  strange  smile  passed 
over  his  pale  face. 

"  Stay  one  minute.  Don't  go  away  yet,"  he  cried  to 
his  mother,  who  was  leaving  the  room.  "  You — you  are 
very  fond  of  this  cup,  mother?  " — and  Harry  looked  at 
him,  wondering.  "  If  I  broke  it,  it  could  never  be 
mended,  could  it?    All  the  tinkers'  rivets  would  not  make 


THE  VIRGINIANS  67 

it  a  whole  cup  again.  My  dear  old  grandpapa's  cup !  I 
have  been  wrong.  Mr.  Ward,  I  ask  pardon.  I  will  try 
and  amend." 

The  widow  looked  at  her  son  indignantly,  almost 
-Scornfully.  "  I  thought,"  she  said,  "  I  thought  an  Es- 
mond had  been  more  of  a  man  than  to  be  afraid,  and  " — 
here  she  gave  a  little  scream  as  Harry  uttered  an  excla- 
mation, and  dashed  forward  with  his  hands  stretched 
out  towards  his  brother. 

George,  after  looking  at  the  cup,  raised  it,  opened  his 
hand,  and  let  it  fall  on  the  marble  slab  below  him.  Harry 
had  tried  in  vain  to  catch  it. 

"  It  is  too  late,  Hal,"  George  said.  "  You  will  never 
mend  that  again — never.  Now,  mother,  I  am  ready,  as 
it  is  your  wish.  Will  you  come  and  see  whether  I  am 
afraid?  Mr.  Ward,  I  am  your  servant.  Your  servant? 
Your  slave !  And  the  next  time  I  meet  Mr.  Washington, 
Madam,  I  will  thank  him  for  the  advice  which  he  gave 
you." 

"I  say,  do  your  duty,  sir!"  cried  Mrs.  Esmond, 
stamping  her  little  foot.  And  George,  making  a  low 
bow  to  Mr.  Ward,  begged  him  to  go  first  out  of  the 
room  to  the  study. 

"  Stop!  For  God's  sake,  mother,  stop!"  cried  poor 
Hal.  But  passion  was  boiling  in  the  little  woman's  heart, 
and  she  would  not  hear  the  boy's  petition.  "  You  only 
abet  him,  sir! "  she  cried.  "  If  I  had  to  do  it  myself,  it 
should  be  done!  "  And  Harry,  with  sadness  and  wrath 
in  his  countenance,  left  the  room  by  the  door  through 
which  Mr.  Ward  and  his  brother  had  just  issued. 

The  widow  sank  down  on  a  great  chair  near  it,  and 
sat  awhile  vacantly  looking  at  the  fragments  of  the 
broken  cup.     Then  she  inclined  her  head  towards  the 


68  THE  VIRGINIANS 

door— one  of  half-a-dozen  of  carved  mahogany  which 
the  Colonel  had  brought  from  Europe.  For  a  while 
there  was  silence:  then  a  loud  outcry,  which  made  the 
poor  mother  start. 

In  another  minute  INIr.  Ward  came  out,  bleeding  from 
a  great  wound  on  his  head,  and  behind  him  Harry,  with 
flaring  ej^es,  and  brandishing  a  little  couteau  de  chasse  of 
his  grandfather,  which  hung,  with  others  of  the  Colonel's 
weapons,  on  the  library  wall. 

"  I  don't  care.  I  did  it,"  says  Harry.  "  I  couldn't 
see  this  fellow  strike  my  brother;  and,  as  he  lifted  his 
hand,  I  flung  the  great  ruler  at  him.  I  couldn't  help  it. 
I  won't  bear  it;  and  if  one  lifts  a  hand  to  me  or  my 
brother,  I'll  have  his  life,"  shouts  Harry,  brandishing 
the  hanger. 

The  widow  gave  a  great  gasp  and  a  sigh  as  she  looked 
at  the  young  champion  and  his  victim.  She  must  have 
sufl'ered  terribly  during  the  few  minutes  of  the  boys' 
absence;  and  the  stripes  which  she  imagined  had  been 
inflicted  on  the  elder  had  smitten  her  own  heart.  She 
longed  to  take  both  boys  to  it.  She  was  not  angry  now. 
Very  likely  she  was  delighted  with  the  thought  of  the 
younger's  prowess  and  generosity.  "  You  are  a  very 
naughty  disobedient  child,"  she  said,  in  an  exceedingly 
peaceable  voice.  "  My  poor  Mr.  Ward!  What  a  rebel, 
to  strike  you!  Papa's  great  ebony  ruler,  was  it?  Lay 
down  that  hanger,  child.  'Twas  General  Webb  gave 
it  to  my  papa  after  the  siege  of  Lille.  Let  me  bathe 
your  wound,  my  good  Mr.  Ward,  and  thank  heaven  it 
was  no  worse.  Mountain!  Go  fetch  me  some  court- 
plaster  out  of  the  middle  drawer  in  the  japan  cabinet. 
Here  comes  George.  Put  on  your  coat  and  waistcoat, 
child!    You  were  going  to  take  your  punishment,  sir, 


The  Tutor  in  Trouble 


THE  VIRGINIANS  69 

and  that  is  sufficient.  Ask  pardon,  Harry,  of  good  Mr. 
Ward,  for  your  wicked  rebellious  spirit— I  do,  with  all 
my  heart,  I  am  sure.  And  guard  against  your  passion- 
ate nature,  child— and  pray  to  be  forgiven.  My  son,  oh, 
my  son!  "  Here,  with  a  burst  of  tears  which  she  could 
no  longer  control,  the  little  woman  threw  herself  on  the 
neck  of  her  eldest  born ;  whilst  Harry,  laying  the  hanger 
down,  went  up  very  feebly  to  Mr.  Ward,  and  said,  "  In- 
deed, I  ask  your  pardon,  sir.  I  couldn't  help  it;  on  my 
honour,  I  couldn't ;  nor  bear  to  see  my  brother  struck." 

The  widow  was  scared,  as  after  her  embrace  she  looked 
up  at  George's  pale  face.  In  reply  to  her  eager  caresses, 
he  coldly  kissed  her  on  the  forehead,  and  separated  from 
her.  "  You  meant  for  the  best,  mother,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  was  in  the  wrong.  But  the  cup  is  broken ;  and  all  the 
king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men  cannot  mend  it. 
There — put  the  fair  side  outwards  on  the  mantelpiece, 
and  the  wound  will  not  show." 

Again  jMadam  Esmond  looked  at  the  lad,  as  he  placed 
the  fragments  of  the  poor  cup  on  the  ledge  where  it  had 
always  been  used  to  stand.  Her  power  over  him  was 
gone.  He  had  dominated  her.  She  was  not  sorry  for 
the  defeat;  for  women  like  not  only  to  conquer,  but  to 
be  conquered;  and  from  that  day  the  young  gentleman 
was  master  at  Castlewood.  His  mother  admired  liiin  as 
he  went  up  to  Harry,  graciously  and  condescendingly 
gave  Hal  his  hand,  and  said,  "  Thank  you,  brotlier!  "  as 
if  lie  were  a  prince,  and  Harry  a  general  who  liad  helped 
him  in  a  great  battle. 

Then  Crcorge  went  up  to  ]\Ir.  Ward,  who  was  still 
piteously  bathing  his  eye  and  forehead  in  the  water.  "  T 
ask  pardon  for  Hal's  violence,  sir,"  George  said,  in  great 
state.     "  You  see,  though  we  are  very  young,  we  are 


70  THE  VIRGINIANS 

gentlemen,  and  cannot  brook  an  insult  from  strangers. 
I  should  have  submitted,  as  it  was  mamma's  desire;  but 
I  am  glad  she  no  longer  entertains  it." 

"  And  pray,  sir,  who  is  to  compensate  me?  "  says  Mr. 
Ward ;   "  who  is  to  repair  the  insult  done  to  mel " 

"  We  are  very  young,"  says  George,  with  another  of 
his  old-fashioned  bows.  "  We  shall  be  fifteen  soon.  Any 
compensation  that  is  usual  amongst  gentlemen — " 

"  This,  sir,  to  a  minister  of  the  Word !  "  bawls  out 
Ward,  starting  up,  and  who  knew  perfectly  well  the  lads' 
skill  in  fence,  having  a  score  of  times  been  foiled  by  the 
pair  of  them. 

"  You  are  not  a  clergyman  yet.  We  thought  you 
might  like  to  be  considered  as  a  gentleman.  We  did  not 
know." 

"  A  gentleman!  I  am  a  Christian,  sir!  "  says  Ward, 
glaring  furiously,  and  clenching  his  great  fists. 

*'  Well,  well,  if  you  won't  fight,  why  don't  you  for- 
give? "  says  Harry.  "  If  you  don't  forgive,  why  don't 
you  fight?  That's  what  I  call  the  horns  of  a  dilemma." 
And  he  laughed  his  frank,  jolly  laugh. 

But  this  was  nothing  to  the  laugh  a  few  days  after- 
wards, when,  the  quarrel  having  been  patched  up,  along 
with  poor  JNIr.  Ward's  eye,  the  unlucky  tutor  was  hold- 
ing forth  according  to  his  custom.  He  tried  to  preach 
the  boys  into  respect  for  him,  to  re-awaken  the  enthusi- 
asm which  the  congregation  had  felt  for  him ;  he  wres- 
tled with  their  manifest  indifference,  he  implored  heaven 
to  warm  their  cold  hearts  again,  and  to  lift  up  those  who 
were  falling  back.  All  was  in  vain.  The  widow  wept 
no  more  at  his  harangues,  was  no  longer  excited  by  his 
loudest  tropes  and  similes,  nor  appeared  to  be  much 
frightened  by  the  very  hottest  menaces  with  which  he 


THE  VIRGINIANS  71 

peppered  his  discourse.  Nay,  she  pleaded  headache,  and 
would  absent  herself  of  an  evening,  on  which  occasion 
the  remainder  of  the  little  congregation  was  very  cold 
indeed.  One  day  then,  Ward,  still  making  desperate 
efforts  to  get  back  his  despised  authority,  was  preaching 
on  the  beauty  of  subordination,  the  present  lax  spirit  of 
the  age,  and  the  necessity  of  obeying  our  spiritual  and 
temporal  rulers.  "  For  why,  my  dear  friends,"  he  nobly 
asked  (he  was  in  the  habit  of  asking  immensely  dull 
questions,  and  straightway  answering  them  with  corre- 
sponding platitudes),  "why  are  governors  appointed, 
but  that  we  should  be  governed?  Why  are  tutors  en- 
gaged, but  that  children  should  be  taught?"  (here  a 
look  at  the  boys).  "Why  are  rulers—"  Here  he 
paused,  looking  with  a  sad,  puzzled  face  at  the  young 
gentlemen.  He  saw  in  their  countenances  the  double 
meaning  of  the  unlucky  word  he  had  uttered,  and  stam- 
mered, and  thumped  the  table  with  his  fist.  "  Why,  I 
say,  are  rulers—" 

" Riders"  says  George,  looking  at  Harry. 

"Rulers!"  says  Hal,  putting  his  hand  to  his  eye, 
where  the  poor  tutor  still  bore  marks  of  the  late  scuffle. 
Rulers,  o-ho!  It  was  too  much.  The  boj^s  burst  out  in 
an  explosion  of  laughter.  Mrs.  JNIountain,  who  was  full 
of  fun,  could  not  help  joining  in  the  chorus;  and  little 
Fanny,  who  had  always  behaved  very  demurely  and 
silently  at  these  ceremonies,  crowed  again,  and  clapped 
her  little  hands  at  the  others  laughing,  not  in  the  least 
knowing  the  reason  why. 

This  could  not  be  borne.  Ward  shut  down  the  book 
before  him;  in  a  few  angry,  but  eloquent  and  manly 
words,  said  he  would  speak  no  more  in  tliat  place;  and 
left  Castlewood  not  in  the  least  regretted  by  Madam 
Esmond,  who  had  doted  on  him  three  months  before. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE   VIRGINIANS   BEGIN    TO   SEE   THE   WORLD 

FTER  the  departure  of 
her  unfortunate  spiritual 
adviser  and  chaplain. 
Madam  Esmond  and  her 
son  seemed  to  be  quite 
reconciled:  but  although 
George  never  spoke  of 
the  quarrel  with  his 
mother,  it  must  have 
weighed  upon  the  boy's 
mind  very  painfully,  for 
he  had  a  fever  soon  after 
the  last  recounted  domestic  occurrences,  during  which 
illness  his  brain  once  or  twice  wandered,  when  he 
shrieked  out,  "Broken!  Broken!  It  never,  never  can 
be  mended !  "  to  the  silent  terror  of  his  mother,  who  sat 
watching  the  poor  child  as  he  tossed  wakeful  upon  his 
midnight  bed.  His  malady  defied  her  skill,  and  in- 
creased in  spite  of  all  the  nostrums  which  the  good  widow 
kept  in  her  closet  and  administered  so  freely  to  her  peo- 
ple. She  had  to  undergo  another  humiliation,  and  one 
day  little  Mr.  Dempster  beheld  her  at  his  door  on  horse- 
back. She  had  ridden  through  the  snow  on  her  pony,  to 
implore  him  to  give  his  aid  to  her  poor  boy.  "  I  shall 
buiy  my  resentment,  Madam,"  said  he,  "  as  your  lady- 

72 


THE  VIRGINIANS  73 

ship  buried  your  pride.  Please  God,  I  may  be  time 
enough  to  help  my  dear  young  pupil!  "  So  he  put  up 
his  lancet,  and  his  little  provision  of  medicaments ;  called 
his  only  negro-boy  after  him,  shut  up  his  lonely  hut,  and 
once  more  returned  to  Castlewood.  That  night  and  for 
some  days  afterwards  it  seemed  very  likely  that  poor 
Harry  would  become  heir  of  Castlewood;  but  by  INIr. 
Dempster's  skill  the  fever  was  got  over,  the  intermittent 
attacks  diminished  in  intensity,  and  George  was  restored 
almost  to  health  again.  A  change  of  air,  a  voyage  even 
to  England,  was  recommended,  but  the  widow  had  quar- 
relled with  her  children's  relatives  there,  and  owned  with 
contrition  that  she  had  been  too  hasty.  A  journey  to  the 
north  and  east  was  determined  on,  and  the  two  young 
gentlemen,  with  ]Mr.  Dempster  as  their  tutor  and  a 
couple  of  servants  to  attend  them,  took  a  voyage  to  New 
York,  and  thence  up  the  beautiful  Hudson  river  to  Al- 
bany, where  they  were  received  by  the  first  gentry  of  the 
province,  and  thence  into  the  French  provinces,  where 
they  had  the  best  recommendations,  and  were  hospitably 
entertained  by  the  French  gentry.  Harry  camped  with 
the  Indians,  and  took  furs  and  shot  bears.  George,  who 
never  cared  for  field-sports  and  whose  health  was  still 
delicate,  was  a  special  favourite  with  the  French  ladies, 
who  were  accustomed  to  see  very  few  young  English 
gentlemen  speaking  the  French  language  so  readily  as 
our  young  gentlemen.  George  especially  perfected  his 
accent  so  as  to  be  able  to  pass  for  a  Frenchman.  He  had 
the  hel  air  completely,  every  person  allowed.  He  danced 
the  minuet  elegantly.  He  learned  the  latest  im])()rted 
French  catches  and  songs,  and  played  them  ])eauti fully 
on  his  violin,  and  would  have  sung  them  too  but  that  his 
voice  broke  at  this  time,  and  changed  from  treble  to 


74  THE  VIRGINIANS 

bass;  and  to  the  envy  of  poor  Harry,  who  was  absent 
on  a  bear-hunt,  he  even  liad  an  affair  of  honour  with  a 
young  ensign  of  the  regiment  of  Auvergne,  the  Cheva- 
her  de  la  Jabotiere,  whom  he  ])inked  in  the  shoulder,  and 
with  whom  he  afterwards  swore  an  eternal  friendship. 
JNIadame  de  IMouchy,  the  superintendent's  lady,  said  the 
mother  was  blest  who  had  such  a  son,  and  wrote  a  compli- 
mentary letter  to  Madam  Esmond  ujDon  Mr.  George's 
behaviour.  I  fear  Mr.  Whitfield  would  not  have  been 
over-pleased  with  the  widow's  elation  on  hearing  of  her 
son's  prowess. 

When  the  lads  returned  home  at  the  end  of  ten  de- 
lightful months,  their  mother  was  surprised  at  their 
growth  and  improvement.  George  especially  was  so 
grown  as  to  come  up  to  his  younger-born  brother.  The 
boys  could  hardly  be  distinguished  one  from  another, 
especially  when  their  hair  was  powdered ;  but  that  cere- 
mony being  too  cumbrous  for  country-life,  each  of  the 
gentlemen  commonly  wore  his  OAvn  hair,  George  his 
raven  black,  and  Harry  his  light  locks  tied  with  a  ribbon. 

The  reader  who  has  been  so  kind  as  to  look  over  the 
first  pages  of  the  lad's  simple  biography,  must  have 
observed  that  Mr.  George  Warrington  was  of  a  jealous 
and  suspicious  disposition,  most  generous  and  gentle  and 
incapable  of  an  untruth,  and  though  too  magnanimous 
to  revenge,  almost  incapable  of  forgiving  any  injury. 
George  left  home  with  no  good  will  towards  an  honour- 
able gentleman,  whose  name  afterwards  became  one  of 
the  most  famous  in  the  world ;  and  he  returned  from  his 
journey  not  in  the  least  altered  in  his  opinion  of  his 
mother's  and  grandfather's  friend.  Mr.  Washington, 
though  then  but  just  of  age,  looked  and  felt  much  older. 
He  always  exhibited  an  extraordinary  simplicity  and 


THE  VIRGINIANS  75 

gravity:  he  had  managed  his  mother's  and  liis  family's 
affairs  from  a  very  early  age,  and  was  treated  by  all  his 
friends  and  the  gentry  of  his  county  more  respectfully 
than  persons  twice  his  senior. 

JNlrs.  jNIountain,  INIadam  Esmond's  friend  and  com- 
panion, who  dearly  loved  the  two  boys  and  her  patroness, 
in  spite  of  many  quarrels  with  the  latter,  and  daily 
threats  of  parting,  was  a  most  amusing,  droll  letter- 
writer,  and  used  to  write  to  the  two  boys  on  their  travels. 
Now,  IMrs.  JNIountain  was  of  a  jealous  turn  likewise;  es- 
pecially she  had  a  great  turn  for  match-making,  and 
fancied  that  everybody  had  a  design  to  marry  everybody 
else.  There  scarce  came  an  unmarried  man  to  Castle- 
wood  but  Mountain  imagined  the  gentleman  had  an  eye 
towards  the  mistress  of  the  mansion.  She  was  positive 
that  odious  ^Ir.  Ward  intended  to  make  love  to  the 
widow,  and  pretty  sure  the  latter  liked  him.  She  knew 
that  INIr.  Washington  wanted  to  be  married,  was  certain 
that  such  a  shrewd  young  gentleman  would  look  out 
for  a  rich  wife,  and  as  for  the  differences  of  ages,  what 
matter  that  the  Major  (major  was  his  rank  in  the 
militia)  was  fifteen  years  younger  than  Madam  Es- 
mond? They  were  used  to  such  marriages  in  the  family; 
my  lady  her  mother  was  how  many  years  older  than 
the  Colonel  when  she  married  him?— When  she  married 
him  and  was  so  jealous  that  slie  never  would  let  the  poor 
Colonel  out  of  her  sight.  The  ])()or  Colonel!  after 
his  wife,  he  had  been  henpecked  by  his  little  daugliter. 
And  she  would  take  after  her  mother,  and  iiiari-y  again, 
be  sure  of  that.  INIadam  was  a  little  chit  of  a  woman, 
not  five  feet  in  her  highest  head-dress  and  shoes,  and  Mr. 
Wasliington  a  great  tall  man  of  six  fVrt  two.  (^,reat 
tall  men  always  married  little  chits  of  women :  therefore, 


76  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Mr.  W.  must  be  looking  after  the  widow.  What  could 
be  more  clear  than  the  deduction  ? 

She  communicated  these  sage  opinions  to  her  boy,  as 
she  called  George,  who  begged  her,  for  heavens'  sake,  to 
hold  her  tongue.  This  she  said  she  could  do,  but  she 
could  not  keep  her  eyes  always  shut;  and  she  narrated 
a  hundred  circumstances  which  had  occurred  in  the 
j^oung  gentleman's  absence,  and  which  tended,  as  she 
thought,  to  confirm  her  notions.  Had  Mountain  im- 
parted these  pretty  suspicions  to  his  brother?  George 
asked  sternly.  No.  George  was  her  boy;  Hariy  was 
his  mother's  boy.  "  She  likes  Jmn  best,  and  I  like  you 
best,  George,"  cries  Mountain.  "  Besides,  if  I  were  to 
speak  to  him,  he  would  tell  your  mother  in  a  minute. 
Poor  Harry  can  keep  nothing  quiet,  and  then  there 
would  be  a  pretty  quarrel  between  Madam  and  me! " 

"  I  beg  you  to  keep  this  quiet,  Mountain,"  said  Mr. 
George,  with  great  dignity,  "  or  j^ou  and  I  shall  quarrel 
too.  Neither  to  me  nor  to  any  one  else  in  the  world  must 
you  mention  such  an  absurd  suspicion." 

Absurd!  Why  absurd?  Mr.  Washington  was  con- 
stantly with  the  widow.  His  name  was  for  ever  in  her 
mouth.  She  was  never  tired  of  pointing  out  his  vir- 
tues and  examples  to  her  sons.  She  consulted  him  on 
every  question  respecting  her  estate  and  its  manage- 
ment. She  never  bought  a  horse  or  sold  a  barrel  of 
tobacco  without  his  opinion.  There  was  a  room  at  Cas- 
tlewood  regularly  called  Mr.  Washington's  room.  He 
actually  leaves  his  clothes  here  and  his  portmanteau  when 
he  goes  away.  "Ah!  George,  George!  One  day  will 
come  when  he  wont  go  away,"  groaned  Mountain,  who, 
of  course,  always  returned  to  the  subject  of  which  she 
was    forbidden    to    speak.      Meanwhile    Mr.    George 


THE  VIRGINIANS  77 

adopted  towards  his  mother's  favourite  a  frigid  cour- 
tesy, at  which  the  honest  gentleman  chafed  but  did  not 
care  to  remonstrate,  or  a  stinging  sarcasm,  which  he 
would  break  through  as  he  would  burst  through  so 
"^iiany  brambles  on  those  hunting  excursions  in  which  he 
and  Harry  Warrington  rode  so  constantly  together; 
whilst  George,  retreating  to  his  tents,  read  mathematics, 
and  French,  and  Latin,  and  sulked  in  his  book-room 
more  and  more  lonely. 

Harry  was  away  from  home  with  some  other  sporting 
friends  (it  is  to  be  feared  the  young  gentleman's  ac- 
quaintances were  not  all  as  eligible  as  Mr.  Washington ) , 
when  the  latter  came  to  pay  a  visit  at  Castlewood.  He 
was  so  peculiarly  tender  and  kind  to  the  mistress  there, 
and  received  by  her  with  such  special  cordiality,  that 
George  Warrington's  jealousy  had  well  nigh  broken  out 
in  open  rupture.  But  the  visit  was  one  of  adieu,  as  it 
appeared.  JMajor  Washington  was  going  on  a  long  and 
dangerous  journej^  quite  to  the  western  Virginia  fron- 
tier and  beyond  it.  The  French  had  been  for  some  time 
past  making  inroads  into  our  territory.  The  govern- 
ment at  home,  as  well  as  those  of  Virginia  and  Pennsyl- 
vania, were  alarmed  at  this  aggressive  spirit  of  the  lords 
of  Canada  and  Louisiana.  Some  of  our  settlers  had 
already  been  driven  from  their  holdings  by  Frenchmen 
in  arms,  and  the  governors  of  the  Bi-itisli  provinces  were 
desirous  to  sto]j  their  incursions,  or  at  any  rate  to  protest 
against  their  invasion. 

We  chose  to  hold  our  American  colonies  by  a  law  that 
was  at  least  convenient  for  its  framers.  The  maxim  was, 
that  whoever  possessed  the  coast  liad  a  right  to  all  tlie 
territory  inland  as  far  as  the  Pacific;  so  tliat  tlic  liritish 
charters  only  laid  down  the  limits  of  the  colonies  from 


78  THE  VIRGINIANS 

north  to  south,  leaving  them  quite  free  from  east  to  west. 
The  French,  meanwhile,  had  their  colonies  to  the  north 
and  south,  and  aimed  at  connecting  them  by  the  Missis- 
sippi and  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  great  intermediate 
lakes  and  waters  lying  to  the  westward  of  the  British 
possessions.  In  the  year  1748,  though  peace  was  signed 
between  the  two  European  kingdoms,  the  colonial  ques- 
tion remained  unsettled,  to  be  opened  again  when  either 
party  should  be  strong  enough  to  urge  it.  In  the  year 
1753,  it  came  to  an  issue,  on  the  Ohio  river,  where  the 
British  and  French  settlers  met.  To  be  sure,  there  ex- 
isted other  people  besides  French  and  British,  who 
thought  they  had  a  title  to  the  territoiy  about  which 
the  children  of  their  White  Fathers  were  battling, 
namely,  the  native  Indians  and  proprietors  of  the  soil. 
But  the  logicians  of  St.  James's  and  Versailles  wisely 
chose  to  consider  the  matter  in  dispute  as  a  European  and 
not  a  Red-man's  question,  eliminating  him  from  the 
argument,  but  employing  his  tomahawk  as  it  might  serve 
the  turn  of  either  litigant. 

A  company,  called  the  Ohio  Company,  having  grants 
from  the  Virginia  government  of  lands  along  that  river, 
found  themselves  invaded  in  their  settlements  by  French 
military  detachments,  who  roughly  ejected  the  Britons 
from  their  holdings.  These  latter  applied  for  protec- 
tion to  Mr.  Dinwiddie,  Lieutenant-Governor  of  Vir- 
ginia, who  determined  upon  sending  an  ambassador  to 
the  French  commanding  officer  on  the  Ohio,  demanding 
that  the  French  should  desist  from  their  inroads  upon 
the  territories  of  his  Majesty  King  George. 

Young  Mr.  Washington  jumped  eagerly  at  the 
chance  of  distinction  which  this  service  afforded  him, 
and  volunteered  to  leave  his  home  and  his  rural  and 


THE  VIRGINIANS  79 

professional  pursuits  in  Virginia,  to  carry  the  gover- 
nor's message  to  the  French  officer.  Taking  a  guide, 
an  interpreter,  and  a  few  attendants,  and  following  the 
Indian  tracks,  in  the  fall  of  the  year  1753,  the  intrepid 
young  envoy  made  his  way  from  Wilhamsburg  almost 
to  the  shores  of  Lake  Erie,  and  found  the  French  com- 
mander at  Fort  le  Boeuf.  That  officer's  reply  was  brief: 
his  orders  were  to  hold  the  place  and  drive  all  the  English 
from  it.  The  French  avowed  their  intention  of  taking 
possession  of  the  Ohio.  And  with  this  rough  answer  the 
messenger  from  Virginia  had  to  return  through  dan- 
ger and  difficulty,  across  lonely  forest  and  frozen  river, 
shaping  his  course  b}^  the  compass,  and  camping  at  night 
in  the  snow  by  the  forest  fires. 

Harry  Warrington  cursed  his  ill  fortune  that  he  had 
been  absent  from  home  on  a  cock-fight,  when  he  might 
have  had  chance  of  sport  so  much  nobler ;  and  on  his  re- 
turn from  his  expedition,  which  he  had  conducted  with 
an  heroic  energy  and  simplicity,  Major  Washington 
was  a  greater  favourite  than  ever  with  the  lady  of  Castle- 
wood.  She  pointed  him  out  as  a  model  to  both  her  sons. 
"  Ah,  Harry!  "  she  would  saj^  "  think  of  you,  with  your 
cock-fighting  and  your  racing-matches,  and  the  INIajor 
away  there  in  the  wilderness,  watching  the  French,  and 
battling  with  the  frozen  rivers!  Ah,  George!  learning 
may  be  a  very  good  thing,  but  I  wish  my  eldest  son  were 
doing  something  in  the  service  of  his  country!  " 

"  I  desire  no  better  than  to  go  home  and  seek  for  em- 
ployment, Ma'am,"  says  George.  "  You  surely  will 
not  have  me  serve  under  Mr.  Washington,  in  his  new 
regiment,  or  ask  a  commission  from  Mr.  Dinwiddic?  " 

"  An  Esmond  can  only  serve  with  the  king's  corn- 
mission,"  says  Madam,  "  and  as  for  asking  a  favour  from 


80  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Mr.  Lieutenant-Governor  Dinwiddle,  I  would  rather 
beg  my  bread." 

Mr.  Washington  was  at  this  time  raising  such  a  regi- 
ment as  with  the  scanty  pay  and  patronage  of  the  Vir- 
ginian government,  he  could  get  together,  and  proposed 
with  the  help  of  these  men-of-war,  to  put  a  more  per- 
emptory veto  upon  the  French  invaders  than  the  solitary 
ambassador  had  been  enabled  to  lay.  A  small  force 
under  another  officer,  Colonel  Trent,  had  been  already 
despatched  to  the  west,  with  orders  to  fortify  themselves 
so  as  to  be  able  to  resist  any  attack  of  the  enemy.  The 
French  troops,  greatly  outnumbering  ours,  came  up 
with  the  English  outposts,  who  were  fortifying  them- 
selves at  a  place  on  the  confines  of  Pennsylvania  where 
the  great  city  of  Pittsburg  now  stands.  A  Virginian  of- 
ficer with  but  forty  men  was  in  no  condition  to  resist 
twenty  times  that  number  of  Canadians,  who  appeared 
before  his  incomplete  works.  He  was  suffered  to  draw 
back  without  molestation;  and  the  French,  taking  pos- 
session of  his  fort,  strengthened  it,  and  christened  it  by 
the  name  of  the  Canadian  governor,  Du  Quesne.  Up 
to  this  time  no  actual  blow  of  war  had  been  struck.  The 
troops  representing  the  hostile  nations  were  in  presence 
— the  guns  were  loaded,  but  no  one  as  yet  had  cried 
"  Fire."  It  was  strange  that  in  a  savage  forest  of  Penn- 
sylvania, a  young  Virginian  officer  should  fire  a  shot, 
and  waken  up  a  war  which  was  to  last  for  sixtj?^  years, 
which  was  to  cover  his  own  country  and  pass  into  Eu- 
rope, to  cost  France  her  American  colonies,  to  sever  ours 
from  us,  and  create  the  great  Western  republic ;  to  rage 
over  the  Old  World  when  extinguished  in  the  New ;  and, 
of  all  the  myriads  engaged  in  the  vast  contest,  to  leave 


THE  VIRGIXIANS  81 

the  prize  of  the  greatest  fame  with  him  who  struck  the 
first  blow! 

He  little  knew^  of  the  fate  in  store  for  him.  A  simple 
gentleman,  anxious  to  serve  his  king  and  do  his  duty, 
he  volunteered  for  the  first  service,  and  executed  it  with 
admirable  fidelity.  In  the  ensuing  year  he  took  the 
command  of  the  small  body  of  provincial  troops  with 
which  he  marched  to  repel  the  Frenchmen.  He  came  up 
with  their  advanced  guard  and  fired  upon  them,  killing 
their  leader.  After  this  he  had  himself  to  fall  back  with 
his  troops,  and  was  compelled  to  capitulate  to  the  supe- 
rior French  force.  On  the  4th  of  July,  1754,  the  Colo- 
nel marched  out  w^ith  his  troops  from  the  little  fort  where 
he  had  hastily  entrenched  himself  ( and  which  they  called 
Fort  Necessity) ,  gave  up  the  place  to  the  conqueror,  and 
took  his  way  home. 

His  command  was  over ;  his  regiment  disbanded  after 
the  fruitless,  inglorious  march  and  defeat.  Saddened 
and  humbled  in  spirit,  the  young  officer  presented  himself 
after  a  w^hile  to  his  old  friends  at  Castlewood.  He  was 
very  young;  before  he  set  forth  on  his  first  campaign  he 
may  have  indulged  in  exaggerated  hopes  of  success,  and 
uttered  them.  "  I  was  angry  when  I  parted  from  you," 
he  said  to  George  Warrington,  holding  out  his  hand, 
which  the  other  eagerly  took.  "  You  seemed  to  scorn 
me  and  my  regiment,  George.  I  thouglit  you  lauglied  at 
us,  and  your  ridicule  made  me  angry.  1  boasted  too 
much  of  what  we  would  do." 

"  Nay,  you  have  done  your  best,  George,"  says  the 
other,  who  quite  forgot  his  previous  jealousy  in  his  old 
comrade's  misfortune.  "  Kvcryl)ody  knows  that  a  luin- 
dred  and  fifty  starving  men  witli  scarce  a  round  of  am- 


82  THE  VIRGINIANS 

niunltioii  left,  could  not  face  five  times  their  number 
perfectly  armed,  and  everj-body  who  knows  Mr.  Wash- 
ington knows  that  he  would  do  his  duty.  Harry  and  I 
saw  the  French  in  Canada  last  year.  They  obey  but 
one  will:    in  our  provinces  each  governor  has  his  own. 

They  were  royal  troops  the  French  sent  against  you " 

"  Oh,  but  that  some  of  ours  were  here!  "  cries  Madam 
Esmond,  tossing  her  head  up.  "  I  promise  you  a  few 
good  English  regiments  would  make  the  white-coats 


run." 


You  think  nothing  of  the  provincials:  and  I  must 
say  nothing  now  we  have  been  so  unlucky,"  said  the 
Colonel,  gloomily.  "•  You  made  much  of  me  when  I  was 
here  before.  Don't  you  remember  what  victories  you 
prophesied  for  me— how  much  I  boasted  myself  very 
likely  over  your  good  wine?  All  those  fine  dreams  are 
over  now.  'Tis  kind  of  your  ladyship  to  receive  a  poor 
beaten  fellow  as  you  do:  "  and  the  young  soldier  hung 
down  his  head. 

George  Warrington,  with  his  extreme  acute  sensibil- 
ity, was  touched  at  the  other's  emotion  and  simple  testi- 
mony of  sorrow  under  defeat.  He  was  about  to  say 
something  friendly  to  ^Ir.  Washington,  had  not  his 
mother,  to  whom  the  Colonel  had  been  speaking,  replied 
herself:  "  Kind  of  us  to  receive  you.  Colonel  Washing- 
ton! "  said  the  widow.  "  I  never  heard  that  when  men 
were  unhappy,  our  sex  were  less  their  friends." 

And  she  made  the  Colonel  a  very  fine  curtsey,  which 
straightway  caused  her  son  to  be  more  jealous  of  him 
than  ever. 


CHAPTER  VII 


PREPARATIONS   FOR   WAR 


URELY         no 

man  can  have 
better  claims 
to  sympathy 
than  bravery, 
youth,  good 
looks,  and  mis- 
fortune. Ma- 
dam Esmond 
might  have 
had  twenty 
sons,  and  yet 
had  a  right 
to  admire  her 
young  soldier. 
Mr.  Washington's  room  was  more  than  ever  Mr.  Wash- 
ington's room  now.  She  raved  about  him  and  praised 
him  in  all  companies.  She  more  than  ever  pointed  out 
his  excellences  to  her  sons,  contrasting  his  sterling  qual- 
ities with  Harry's  love  of  pleasure  (the  wild  boy!)  and 
George's  listless  musings  over  his  books.  George  was 
not  disposed  to  like  Mr.  Washington  any  better  for  his 
mother's  extravagant  praises.  He  coaxed  the  jealous 
demon  within  him  until  he  must  have  become  a  perfect 
pest  to  himself  and  all  the  friends  round  about  him.  He 
uttered  jokes  so  deep  that  his  simple  mother  did  not 

83 


84  THE  VIRGINIANS 

know  their  meaning,  but  sat  bewildered  at  his  sarcasms, 
and  powerless  what  to  think  of  his  moody,  saturnine 
humour. 

JNIeanwhile,  public  events  were  occurring  which  were 
to  influence  the  fortunes  of  all  our  homely  family.  The 
quarrel  between  the  French  and  English  North  Ameri- 
cans, from  being  a  provincial,  had  grown  to  be  a  national 
quarrel.  Reinforcements  from  France  had  already  ar- 
rived in  Canada;  and  English  troops  were  expected  in 
Virginia.  "  Alas!  my  dear  friend!  "  wrote  Madame  la 
Presidente  de  INIouchy,  from  Quebec,  to  her  young 
friend  George  Warrington.  "  How  contrary  is  the  des- 
tiny to  us.  I  see  you  quitting  the  embrace  of  an  adored 
mother  to  precipitate  yourself  in  the  arms  of  Bellona. 
I  see  you  pass  wounded  after  combats.  I  hesitate  almost 
to  wish  victory  to  our  lilies  when  I  behold  you  ranged 
under  the  banners  of  the  Leopard.  There  are  enmities 
which  the  heart  does  not  recognise — ours  assuredly  are 
at  peace  among  these  tumults.  All  here  love  and  salute 
you  as  well  as  JMonsieur  the  Bear-hunter,  your  brother 
(that  cold  Hippolyte  who  preferred  the  chase  to  the  soft 
conversation  of  our  ladies ! ) .  Your  friend,  your  enemy, 
the  Chevalier  de  la  Jabotiere,  burns  to  meet  on  the  field 
of  Mars  his  generous  rival.  ]M.  du  Quesne  spoke  of  j^ou 
last  night  at  supper.  M.  du  Quesne,  my  husband,  send 
affectuous  remembrances  to  their  young  friend,  with 
which  are  ever  joined  those  of  your  sincere  Presidente 
de  Mouchy." 

"  The  banner  of  the  Leopard,"  of  which  George's  fair 
correspondent  wrote,  was,  indeed,  flung  out  to  the  winds, 
and  a  number  of  the  king's  soldiers  were  rallied  round  it. 
It  was  resolved  to  wrest  from  the  French  all  the  con- 
quests they  had  made  upon  British  dominion.  A  couple 
of  regiments  were  raised  and  paid  by  the  king  in  Amer- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  85 

ica,  and  a  fleet  with  a  couple  more  was  despatched  from 
home  under  an  experienced  commander.  In  February, 
1755,  Commodore  Keppel,  in  the  famous  ship  "  Cen- 
turion," in  which  Anson  had  made  his  voyage  round  the 
world,  anchored  in  Hampton  Roads  with  two  ships  of 
war  under  his  command,  and  having  on  board  General 
Braddock,  his  staff,  and  a  part  of  his  troops.  Mr.  Brad- 
dock  was  appointed  by  the  Duke.  A  hundred  years  ago 
the  Duke  of  Cumberland  was  called  The  Duke  par 
excellence  in  England — as  another  famous  warrior 
has  since  been  called.  Not  so  great  a  Duke  certainly 
was  that  first-named  Prince  as  his  party  esteemed  him, 
and  surely  not  so  bad  a  one  as  his  enemies  have  painted . 
him.  A  fleet  of  transports  speedily  followed  Prince 
William's  general,  bringing  stores,  and  men,  and  money 
in  plenty. 

The  great  man  landed  his  troops  at  Alexandria  on  the 
Potomac  river,  and  repaired  to  Annapolis  in  Maryland, 
where  he  ordered  the  governors  of  the  different  colonies 
to  meet  him  in  council,  urging  them  each  to  call  upon 
their  respective  provinces  to  help  the  common  cause  in 
this  strait. 

The  arrival  of  the  General  and  his  little  army  caused 
a  mighty  excitement  all  through  the  provinces,  and  no- 
where greater  than  at  Castlewood.  Harry  was  off  forth- 
with to  see  the  troops  under  canvas  at  Alexandria.  The 
sight  of  their  lines  deliglited  him,  and  the  ins])iring  music 
of  their  flfes  and  drums.  He  speedily  made  acquain- 
tance with  the  officers  of  both  regiments;  he  longed  to 
join  in  the  expedition  upon  which  they  were  bound,  and 
was  a  welcome  guest  at  their  mess. 

Madam  Esmond  was  pleased  that  her  sons  should  have 
an  opportunity  of  enjoying  the  society  of  gentlemen  of 
good  fashion  from  England.     She  had  no  doubt  their 


86  THE  VIRGINIANS 

company  was  improving,  that  the  English  gentlemen 
were  very  different  from  the  horse-racing,  cock-fighting 
Virginian  squires,  with  whom  Master  Harry  would  as- 
sociate, and  the  lawyers,  and  pettifoggers,  and  toad- 
eaters  at  the  Lieutenant-Governor's  table.  Madam  Es- 
mond had  a  very  keen  eye  for  detecting  flatterers  in  other 
folks'  houses.  Against  the  little  knot  of  official  people 
at  Williamsburg,  she  was  especially  satirical,  and  had 
no  patience  with  their  etiquettes  and  squabbles  for  prece- 
dence. 

As  for  the  company  of  the  King's  officers,  Mr.  Harry 
and  his  elder  brother  both  smiled  at  their  mamma's  com- 
pliments to  the  elegance  and  propriety  of  the  gentlemen 
of  the  camp.  If  the  good  lady  had  but  known  all,  if  she 
could  but  have  heard  their  jokes  and  the  songs  which  they 
sang  over  their  wine  and  punch,  if  she  could  have  seen 
the  condition  of  many  of  them  as  they  were  carried  away 
to  their  lodgings,  she  would  scarce  have  been  so  ready 
to  recommend  their  company  to  her  sons.  Men  and  offi- 
cers swaggered  the  country  round,  and  frightened  the 
peaceful  farm  and  village  folk  with  their  riot :  the  Gen- 
eral raved  and  stormed  against  his  troops  for  their  dis- 
order; against  the  provincials  for  their  traitorous  nig- 
gardliness; the  soldiers  took  possession  almost  as  of  a 
conquered  country,  they  scorned  the  provincials,  they 
insulted  the  wives  even  of  their  Indian  allies,  who  had 
come  to  join  the  English  warriors,  upon  their  arrival  in 
America,  and  to  march  with  them  against  the  French. 
The  General  was  compelled  to  forbid  the  Indian  women 
his  camp.  Amazed  and  outraged,  their  husbands  retired, 
and  but  a  few  months  afterwards  their  services  were  lost 
to  him,  when  their  aid  would  have  been  most  precious. 

Some  stories   against  the  gentlemen  of  the   camp, 


THE  VIRGINIANS  87 

iMadam  Esmond  might  have  heard,  but  she  would  have 
none  of  them.  Soldiers  would  be  soldiers,  that  everybody 
knew.  Those  officers  who  came  over  to  Castlewood  on 
her  sons'  invitation  were  most  polite  gentlemen,  and  such 
indeed  was  the  case.  The  widow  received  them  most 
graciously,  and  gave  them  the  best  sport  the  country 
afforded.  Presently,  the  General  himself  sent  polite 
messages  to  the  mistress  of  Castlewood.  His  father  had 
served  with  hers  under  the  glorious  INIarlborough,  and 
Colonel  Esmond's  name  was  still  known  and  respected 
in  England.  With  her  ladyship's  permission,  General 
Braddock  would  have  the  honour  of  waiting  upon  her  at 
Castlewood,  and  paying  his  respects  to  the  daughter  of 
so  meritorious  an  officer. 

If  she  had  known  the  cause  of  Mr.  Braddock's  polite- 
ness, perhaps  his  compliments  would  not  have  charmed 
IMadam  Esmond  so  much.  The  Commander-in-Chief 
held  levees  at  Alexandria,  and  among  the  gentry  of  the 
country  who  paid  him  their  respects,  were  our  twins  of 
Castlewood,  who  mounted  their  best  nags,  took  with 
them  their  last  London  suits,  and,  with  their  two  negro- 
boj^s  in  smart  liveries  behind  them,  rode  in  state  to  wait 
upon  the  great  man.  He  was  sulky  and  angry  with  the 
provincial  gentry,  and  scarce  took  any  notice  of  the 
young  gentlemen,  only  asking  casually,  of  his  aide-de- 
camp at  dinner,  who  tlie  young  Squire  Gawkeys  were  in 
blue  and  gold  and  red  waistcoats? 

Mr.  Dinwiddie,  the  Lieutenant-Governor  of  Virginia, 
the  Agent  from  Pennsylvania,  and  a  few  more  gen- 
tlemen, happened  to  be  dining  with  his  Excellency. 
"  Oh!  "  says  Mr.  Dinwiddie,  "  those  are  the  sons  of  the 
Princess  Pocahontas;"  on  which,  with  a  tremendous 
oath,  the  General  asked,  "  Who  the  deuce  was  she? " 


88  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Dinwiddie,  who  did  not  love  her,  having  indeed  un- 
dergone a  hundred  pertnesses  from  the  imperious  little 
lady,  now  gave  a  disrespectful  and  ridiculous  account  of 
INIadam  Esmond,  made  merry  with  her  pomposity  and 
immense  pretensions,  and  entertained  General  Braddock 
with  anecdotes  regarding  her,  until  his  Excellency  fell 
asleep. 

When  he  awoke  Dinwiddie  was  gone,  but  the  Phila- 
delphia gentleman  was  still  at  table,  deep  in  conversa- 
tion with  the  officers  there  present.  The  General  took 
up  the  talk  where  it  had  been  left  when  he  fell  asleep, 
and  spoke  of  JNIadam  Esmond  in  curt,  disrespectful 
terms,  such  as  soldiers  were  in  the  habit  of  using  in  those 
daj^s,  and  asking,  again,  what  was  the  name  of  the  old 
fool  about  whom  Dinwiddie  had  been  talking?  He  then 
broke  into  expressions  of  contempt  and  wrath  against 
the  gentry,  and  the  country  in  general. 

Mr.  Franklin  of  Philadelphia  repeated  the  widow's 
name,  took  quite  a  different  view  of  her  character  from 
that  Mr.  Dinwiddie  had  given,  seemed  to  know  a  good 
deal  about  her,  her  father,  and  her  estate;  as,  indeed, 
he  did  about  every  man  or  subject  which  came  under  dis- 
cussion ;  explained  to  the  General  that  Madam  Esmond 
had  beeves,  and  horses,  and  stores  in  plenty,  which  might 
be  very  useful  at  the  present  juncture,  and  recommended 
him  to  conciliate  her  by  all  means.  The  General  had  al- 
ready made  up  his  mind  that  Mr.  Franklin  was  a  verj'- 
shrewd,  intelligent  person,  and  graciously  ordered  an 
aide-de-camp  to  invite  the  two  young  men  to  the  next 
day's  dinner.  When  they  appeared  he  was  very  pleasant 
and  good-natured ;  the  gentlemen  of  the  General's  fam- 
ily made  much  of  them.  They  behaved,  as  became  per- 
sons of  their  name,  with  modesty  and  good-breeding; 


THE  VIRGINIANS  89 

they  returned  home  delighted  with  their  entertainment, 
nor  was  their  mother  less  pleased  at  the  civilities  which 
his  Excellency  had  shown  to  her  boys.  In  reply  to  Brad- 
ddock's  message,  JNIadam  Esmond  penned  a  billet  in  her 
best  style,  acknowledging  his  politeness,  and  begging  his 
Excellency  to  fix  the  time  when  she  might  have  the 
honour  to  receive  him  at  Castlewood. 

We  may  be  sure  that  the  arrival  of  the  army  and  the 
approaching  campaign  formed  the  subject  of  continued 
conversation  in  the  Castlewood  family.  To  make  the 
campaign  was  the  dearest  wish  of  Harry's  life.  He 
dreamed  only  of  war  and  battle;  he  was  for  ever  with 
the  officers  at  Williamsburg :  he  scoured  and  cleaned  and 
polished  all  the  guns  and  swords  in  the  house;  he  re- 
newed the  amusements  of  his  childhood,  and  had  the 
negroes  under  arms.  His  mother,  who  had  a  gallant 
spirit,  knew  that  the  time  was  come  when  one  of  her 
boys  must  leave  her  and  serve  the  king.  She  scarce  dared 
to  think  on  whom  the  lot  should  fall.  She  admired  and 
respected  the  elder,  but  she  felt  that  she  loved  the 
younger  boy  with  all  the  passion  of  her  heart. 

Eager  as  Harry  was  to  be  a  soldier,  and  with  all  his 
thoughts  bent  on  that  glorious  scheme,  he  too  scarcely 
dared  to  touch  on  the  subject  nearest  his  heart.  Once  or 
twice  when  he  ventured  on  it  with  George,  the  latter's 
countenance  wore  an  ominous  look.  Harry  had  a  feudal 
attachment  for  his  elder  brother,  worshi])pcd  him  with 
an  extravagant  regard,  and  in  all  things  gave  way  to 
him  as  the  chief.  So  Harry  saw,  to  his  infinite  terror, 
how  George,  too,  in  his  grave  way,  was  occupied  with 
military  matters.  George  had  the  wars  of  Eugene  and 
Marlborough  down  from  his  bookshelves,  all  tlie  military 
books  of  his  grandfather,  and  the  most  warlike  of  Plu- 


90  THE  VIRGINIANS 

tarch's  lives.  He  and  Dempster  were  practising  with 
the  foils  again.  The  old  Scotchman  was  an  adept  in  the 
military  art,  though  somewhat  shy  of  saying  where  he 
learned  it. 

Madam  Esmond  made  her  two  boys  the  bearers  of 
the  letter  in  reply  to  his  Excellency's  message,  accom- 
panying her  note  with  such  large  and  handsome  presents 
for  the  General's  staff  and  the  officers  of  the  two  Royal 
Regiments,  as  caused  the  General  more  than  once  to 
thank  Mr.  Franklin  for  having  been  the  means  of  bring- 
ing this  welcome  ally  into  the  camp.  "  Would  not  one 
of  the  young  gentlemen  like  to  see  the  campaign?  "  the 
General  asked.  "  A  friend  of  theirs,  who  often  spoke  of 
them— Mr.  Washington,  who  had  been  unlucky  in  the 
affair  of  last  year — had  already  promised  to  join  him 
as  aide-de-camp,  and  his  Excellency  would  gladly  take 
another  young  Virginian  gentleman  into  his  family." 
Harry's  eyes  brightened  and  his  face  flushed  at  this 
offer.  "He  would  like  with  all  his  heart  to  go!"  he 
cried  out.  George  said,  looking  hard  at  his  younger 
brother,  that  one  of  them  would  be  proud  to  attend  his 
Excellency,  whilst  it  would  be  the  other's  duty  to  take 
care  of  their  mother  at  home.  Harry  allowed  his  senior 
to  speak.  His  will  was  even  still  obedient  to  George's. 
However  much  he  desired  to  go,  he  would  not  pronounce 
until  George  had  declared  himself.  He  longed  so  for 
the  campaign,  that  the  actual  wish  made  him  timid.  He 
dared  not  speak  on  the  matter  as  he  went  home  with 
George.  They  rode  for  miles  in  silence,  or  strove  to 
talk  upon  indifferent  subjects;  each  knowing  what  was 
passing  in  the  other's  mind,  and  afraid  to  bring  the  awful 
question  to  an  issue. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  91 

On  their  arrival  at  home  the  boys  told  their  mother  of 

General  Braddock's  offer.     "  I  knew  it  must  happen," 

she  said ;  "  at  such  a  crisis  in  the  country  our  family  must 

j3ome  forward.    Have  you — have  you  settled  yet  which 

*of  you  is  to  leave  me?  "  and  she  looked  anxiously  from 

one  to  another,  dreading  to  hear  either  name. 

"  The  youngest  ought  to  go,  mother;  of  course  I  ought 
to  go!  "  cries  Harry,  turning  very  red. 

"  Of  course,  he  ought,"  said  Mrs.  Mountain,  who  was 
present  at  their  talk. 

"  There!  Mountain  says  so!  I  told  you  so!"  again 
cries  Harry,  with  a  sidelong  look  at  George. 

"  The  head  of  the  family  ought  to  go,  mother,"  says 
George,  sadly. 

"No!  No!  you  are  ill,  and  have  never  recovered  your 
fever.     Ought  he  to  go.  Mountain?" 

"  You  would  make  the  best  soldier,  I  know  that,  dear- 
est Hal.  You  and  George  Washington  are  great  friends, 
and  could  travel  well  together,  and  he  does  not  care  for 
me,  nor  I  for  him,  however  much  he  is  admired  in  the 
family.  But,  you  see,  'tis  the  law  of  Honour,  my 
Harry."  (He  here  spoke  to  his  brother  with  a  voice  of 
extraordinary  kindness  and  tenderness.)  "  The  grief  I 
have  had  in  this  matter  has  been  that  I  must  refuse  thee. 
I  must  go.  Had  Fate  given  you  the  benefit  of  that  extra 
half -hour  of  life  which  I  have  had  before  you,  it  would 
have  been  yoiu*  lot,  and  you  would  have  claimed  your 
right  to  go  first,  you  know  you  would." 

"  Yes,  George,"  said  poor  Harry,  "  I  own  I  should." 

"  You  will  stay  at  home,  and  take  care  of  Castlewood 
and  our  mother.  If  anytliiiig  lia])])ens  to  me,  you  are 
here  to  fill  my  ])lace.  I  would  like  to  give  way,  my  dear, 
as  you,  I  know,  would  lay  down  your  life  to  serve  me. 


92  THE  VIRGINIANS 

But  each  of  us  must  do  his  duty.  What  would  our 
grandfather  say  if  he  were  here?  " 

The  mother  looked  proudly  at  her  two  sons.  "  JNIy 
papa  would  say  that  his  hoys  were  gentlemen,"  faltered 
Madam  Esmond,  and  left  the  young  men,  not  choos- 
ing, perhaps,  to  show  the  emotion  which  was  filling  her 
heart.  It  was  speedily  known  amongst  the  servants  that 
Mr.  George  was  going  on  the  campaign.  Dinah, 
George's  foster-mother,  was  loud  in  her  lamentations  at 
losing  him ;  Phillis,  Harry's  old  nurse,  was  as  noisy  be- 
cause Master  George,  as  usual,  was  preferred  over  Mas- 
ter Harry.  Sady,  George's  servant,  made  preparations 
to  follow  his  master,  bragging  incessantly  of  the  deeds 
which  he  would  do;  while  Gumbo,  Harry's  boy,  pre- 
tended to  whimper  at  being  left  behind,  though,  at  home, 
Gumbo  was  anything  but  a  fire-eater. 

But,  of  all  in  the  house,  Mrs.  Mountain  was  the  most 
angry  at  George's  determination  to  go  on  the  campaign. 
She  had  no  patience  with  him.  He  did  not  know  what 
he  was  doing  by  leaving  home.  She  begged,  implored, 
insisted  that  he  should  alter  his  determination ;  and  voted 
that  nothing  but  mischief  would  come  from  his  depar- 
ture. 

George  was  surprised  at  the  pertinacity  of  the  good 
lady's  opposition.  "  I  know.  Mountain,"  said  he,  "  that 
Harry  would  be  the  better  soldier;  but,  after  all,  to  go 
is  my  duty." 

"  To  stay  is  your  duty!  "  says  Mountain,  with  a  stamp 
of  her  foot. 

"  Why  did  not  my  mother  own  it  when  we  talked  of 
the  matter  just  now?  " 

"Your  mother!"  says  Mrs.  Mountain,  with  a  most 
gloomy,  sardonic  laugh ;  "  your  mother,  my  poor  child !  " 


THE  VIRGINIANS  93 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  that  mournful  countenance, 
Mountain? " 

"  It  may  be  that  your  mother  wishes  j^ou  away, 
George !  "  Mrs.  Mountain  continued,  wagging  her  head. 
"*'  It  may  be,  my  poor  deluded  boy,  that  you  will  find  a 
father-in-law  when  you  come  back." 

"  What  in  heaven  do  you  mean?  "  cried  George,  the 
blood  rushing  into  his  face. 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  have  no  eyes,  and  cannot  see  what 
is  going  on?  I  tell  you,  child,  that  Colonel  Washington 
wants  a  rich  wife.  When  you  are  gone,  he  will  ask  your 
mother  to  marry  him,  and  you  will  find  him  master  here 
when  you  come  back.  That  is  why  you  ought  not  to  go 
away,  you  poor,  unhappy,  simple  boy!  Don't  you  see 
how  fond  she  is  of  him?  how  much  she  makes  of  him? 
how  she  is  always  holding  him  up  to  you,  to  Harry,  to 
everybody  who  comes  here?" 

"  But  he  is  going  on  the  campaign,  too,"  cried  George. 

"  He  is  going  on  the  marrying  campaign,  child! "  in- 
sisted the  widow. 

*'  Nay;  General  Braddock  himself  told  me  that  Mr. 
Washington  had  accepted  the  appointment  of  aide-de- 
camp." 

"  An  artifice!  an  artifice  to  blind  you,  my  poor  child!  " 
cries  Mountain.  "  He  will  be  wounded  and  come  back— 
you  will  see  if  he  does  not.  I  have  proofs  of  what  I  say 
to  you— proofs  under  his  own  hand— look  here!  "  And 
she  took  from  her  pocket  a  piece  of  paper  in  Mr.  Wash- 
ington's well-known  handwriting. 

"  How  came  you  by  this  paper?  "  asked  George,  turn- 
ing ghastly  pale. 

"  I  — I  found  it  in  the  INIajor's  chamber! "  says  Mrs. 
IMountain,  with  a  shamefaced  look. 


94  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  You  read  the  private  letters  of  a  guest  staying  in  our 
house?  "  cried  George.  "For  shame!  I  will  not  look  at 
the  paper!  "  And  he  flung  it  from  him  on  to  the  fire 
before  him. 

"  I  could  not  help  it,  George;  'twas  by  chance,  I  give 
you  my  word,  by  the  merest  chance.  You  know  Gov- 
ernor Dinwiddie  is  to  have  the  Major's  room,  and  the 
state-room  is  got  ready  for  Mr.  Braddock,  and  we  are 
expecting  ever  so  much  company,  and  I  had  to  take  the 
things  which  the  Major  leaves  here — he  treats  the  house 
just  as  if  it  was  his  own  already — into  his  new  room, 
and  this  half-sheet  of  paper  fell  out  of  his  writing-book, 
and  I  just  gave  one  look  at  it  by  the  merest  chance,  and 
when  I  saw  what  it  was  it  was  my  duty  to  read  it." 

"  Oh,  you  are  a  martyr  to  duty,  Mountain!  "  George 
said  grimly.  "  I  dare  say  ]Mrs.  Bluebeard  thought  it 
was  her  duty  to  look  through  the  keyhole." 

"  I  never  did  look  through  the  keyhole,  George.  It's 
a  shame  you  should  say  so!  I,  who  have  watched  and 
tended,  and  nursed  you,  like  a  mother ;  who  have  sat  up 
whole  weeks  with  you  in  fevers,  and  carried  you  from 
your  bed  to  the  sofa  in  these  arms.  There,  sir,  I  don't 
want  you  there  note;.  My  dear  Mountain,  indeed !  Don't 
tell  me!  You  fly  into  a  passion,  and  call  names,  and 
wound  my  feelings,  who  have  loved  you  like  your  mother 
— like  your  mother? — I  only  hope  she  may  love  you  half 
as  well.  I  say  you  are  all  ungrateful.  My  Mr.  Moun- 
tain was  a  wretch,  and  every  one  of  you  is  as  bad." 

There  was  but  a  smouldering  log  or  two  in  the  fire- 
place, and  no  doubt  Mountain  saw  that  the  paper  was  in 
no  danger  as  it  lay  amongst  the  ashes,  or  she  would  have 
seized  it  at  the  risk  of  burning  her  own  fingers,  and  ere 
she  uttered  the  above  passionate  defence  of  her  conduct, 


THE  VIRGINIANS  05 

Perhaps  George  was  absorbed  in  his  dismal  thoughts; 
perhaps  his  jealousy  overpowered  him,  for  he  did  not  re- 
sist any  further  when  she  stooped  down  and  picked  up 
the  paper. 

^  "  You  should  thank  your  stars,  child,  that  I  saved  the 
letter,"  cried  she.  "  See!  here  are  his  own  words,  in  his 
great  big  handwriting  like  a  clerk.  It  was  not  my  fault 
that  he  wrote  them,  or  that  I  found  them.  Read  for 
yourself,  I  say,  George  Warrington,  and  be  thankful 
that  your  poor  dear  old  Mounty  is  watching  over  you!  " 

Every  word  and  letter  upon  the  unlucky  paper  was 
perfectly  clear.  George's  eyes  could  not  help  taking  in 
the  contents  of  the  document  before  him.  "  Not  a  word 
of  this,  Mountain,"  he  said,  giving  her  a  frightful  look. 
"I — I  will  return  this  paper  to  Mr.  Washington." 

Mountain  was  scared  at  his  face,  at  the  idea  of  what 
she  had  done,  and  what  might  ensue.  When  his  mother, 
with  alarm  in  her  countenance,  asked  him  at  dinner  what 
ailed  him  that  he  looked  so  pale?  "Do  j^ou  suppose, 
JNIadam,"  saj'-s  he,  filling  himself  a  great  bumper  of 
wine,  "  that  to  leave  such  a  tender  mother  as  you  does 
not  cause  me  cruel  grief?  " 

The  good  lady  could  not  understand  his  words,  his 
strange,  fierce  looks,  and  stranger  laughter.  He  ban- 
tered all  at  the  table ;  called  to  the  servants  and  laughed 
at  them,  and  drank  more  and  more.  Each  time  the  door 
was  opened,  he  turned  towards  it ;  and  so  did  Mountain, 
with  a  guilty  notion  that  Mr.  Washington  would 
step  in. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


IN    WHICH    GEORGE    SUFFERS    FROM    A    COMMON 

DISEASE 

,J 

N  the  day  appointed 
for  Madam  Es- 
mond's enter- 
tainment to  the 
General,  the 
house  of  Cas- 
tlewood  was 
set  out  with 
the  greatest 
splendour;  and 
Madam  Es- 
mond arrayed 
herselfinamuch 
more  magnifi- 
cent dress  than 
she  was  accus- 
tomed to  wear.  Indeed,  she  wished  to  do  every  honour 
to  her  guest,  and  to  make  the  entertainment — which,  in 
reality,  was  a  sad  one  to  her — as  pleasant  as  might  he 
for  her  company.  The  General's  new  aide-de-camp  was 
the  first  to  arrive.  The  widow  received  him  in  the  cov- 
ered gallery  before  the  house.  He  dismounted  at  the 
steps,  and  his  servants  led  away  his  horses  to  the  well- 
known  quarters.     No  young  gentleman  in  the  colony 

96 


THE  VIRGINIANS  97 

was  better  mounted  or  a  better  horseman  than  Mr. 
Washington. 

For  a  while  ere  the  Colonel  retired  to  divest  himself 
^^  of  his  riding-boots,  he  and  his  hostess  paced  the  gallery 
in  talk.  She  had  much  to  say  to  him;  she  had  to  hear 
from  him  a  confirmation  of  his  own  appointment  as 
aide-de-camp  to  General  Braddock,  and  to  speak  of  her 
son's  approaching  departure.  The  negro-servants  bear- 
ing the  dishes  for  the  approaching  feast  were  passing 
perpetually  as  they  talked.  They  descended  the  steps 
down  to  the  rough  lawn  in  front  of  the  house,  and  paced 
awhile  in  the  shade.  Mr.  Washington  announced  his 
Excellency's  speedy  approach,  with  Mr.  Franklin  of 
Pennsylvania  in  his  coach. 

This  Mr.  Franklin  had  been  a  common  printer's  boy, 
Mrs.  Esmond  had  heard;  a  pretty  pass  things  were 
coming  to  when  such  persons  rode  in  the  coach  of  the 
Commander-in-Chief!  JNIr.  Washington  said,  a  more 
shrewd  and  sensible  gentleman  never  rode  in  coach  or 
walked  on  foot.  Mrs.  Esmond  thought  the  Colonel 
was  too  liberally  disposed  towards  this  gentleman;  but 
Mr.  Washington  stoutly  maintained  against  the  widow 
that  the  printer  was  a  most  ingenious,  useful,  and  meri- 
torious man. 

"  I  am  glad,  at  least,  that,  as  my  boy  is  going  to  make 
the  campaign,  he  will  not  be  with  tradesmen,  but  with 
gentlemen,  with  gentlemen  of  honour  and  fashion,"  says 
Madam  Esmond,  in  her  most  stately  manner. 

Mr.  Washington  had  seen  the  gentlemen  of  honour 
and  fashion  over  their  cups,  and  perha])s  tlinught  that 
all  their  sayings  and  doings  were  not  precisely  such 
as  would  tend  to  instruct  or  edify  a  young  man  on  his 
entrance  into  life;  but  he  wisely  chose  to  tell  no  tales  out 


98  THE  VIRGINIANS 

of  school,  and  said  that  Harry  and  George,  now  they 
were  coming  into  the  world,  must  take  their  share  of 
good  and  bad,  and  hear  what  both  sorts  had  to  say. 

"  To  be  with  a  veteran  officer  of  the  finest  army  in  the 
world,"  faltered  the  widow;  "  with  gentlemen  who  have 
been  bred  in  the  midst  of  the  Court ;  with  friends  of  his 
Royal  Highness  the  Duke — " 

The  widow's  friend  only  inclined  his  head.  He  did 
not  choose  to  allow  his  countenance  to  depart  from  its 
usual  handsome  gravity. 

"  And  with  you,  dear  Colonel  Washington,  by  whom 
my  father  always  set  such  store.  You  don't  know  how 
much  he  trusted  in  you.  You  will  take  care  of  my  boy, 
sir,  will  not  you?  You  are  but  five  years  older,  yet  I 
trust  to  you  more  than  to  his  seniors ;  my  father  always 
told  the  children,  I  always  bade  them,  to  look  up  to  Mr. 
Washington." 

"  You  know  I  would  have  done  anything  to  win  Colo- 
nel Esmond's  favour.  Madam,  how  much  would  I  not 
venture  to  merit  his  daughter's?  " 

The  gentleman  bowed  with  not  too  ill  a  grace.  The 
lady  blushed,  and  dropped  one  of  the  lowest  curtseys. 
(Madam  Esmond's  curtsey  was  considered  unrivalled 
over  the  whole  province.)  "  Mr.  Washington,"  she  said, 
"  will  be  always  sure  of  a  mother's  affection,  whilst  he 
gives  so  much  of  his  to  her  children."  And  so  saying 
she  gave  him  her  hand,  which  he  kissed  with  profound 
politeness.  The  little  lady  presently  re-entered  her  man- 
sion, leaning  upon  the  tall  young  officer's  arm.  Here 
they  were  joined  by  George,  who  came  to  them,  ac- 
curately powdered  and  richly  attired,  saluting  his  parent 
and  his  friend  alike  with  low  and  respectful  bows.  Now- 
a-days,  a  young  man  walks  into  his  mother's  room  with 


THE  VIRGINIANS  99 

hob-nailed  high-lows,  and  a  wide-awake  on  his  head ;  and 
instead  of  making  her  a  bow,  puffs  a  cigar  into  her  face. 

But  George,  though  he  made  the  lowest  possible  bow 
to  Mr.  Washington  and  his  mother,  was  by  no  means  in 
good  humour  with  either  of  them.  A  polite  smile  played 
round  the  lower  part  of  his  countenance,  whilst  watch- 
fulness and  wrath  glared  out  from  the  two  upper  win- 
dows. What  had  been  said  or  done?  Nothing  that 
might  not  have  been  performed  or  uttered  before  the 
most  decent,  polite,  or  pious  company.  Why  then  should 
Madam  Esmond  continue  to  blush,  and  the  brave  Colo- 
nel to  look  somewhat  red,  as  he  shook  his  young  friend's 
hand  ? 

The  Colonel  asked  Mr.  George  if  he  had  had  good 
sport?  "No,"  says  George,  curtly.  "Have  you?" 
And  then  he  looked  at  the  picture  of  his  father,  which 
hung  in  the  parlour. 

The  Colonel,  not  a  talkative  man  ordinarily,  straight- 
way entered  into  a  long  description  of  his  sport,  and  de- 
scribed where  he  had  been  in  the  morning,  and  what 
woods  he  had  hunted  with  the  king's  officers ;  how  many 
birds  the}'-  had  shot,  and  what  game  they  had  brought 
down.  Though  not  a  jocular  man  ordinarily,  the  Colo- 
nel made  a  long  description  of  Mr.  Braddock's  heavy 
person  and  great  boots,  as  he  floundered  through  the 
Virginian  woods,  hunting,  as  they  called  it,  with  a  pack 
of  dogs  gatliered  from  various  houses,  with  a  pack  of 
negroes  barking  as  loud  as  the  dogs,  and  actually  shoot- 
ing the  deer  when  they  came  in  sight  of  him.  "  (xreat 
God,  sir!"  says  Mr.  Braddock,  ])uffing  and  blowing, 
"  what  would  Sir  Ro])ert  have  said  in  Nori'olk,  to  see  a 
man  hunting  with  a  fowling-piece  in  his  hand,  and  a  pack 
of  dogs  actually  laid  on  to  a  turkej'! " 


100  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  Indeed,  Colonel,  you  are  vastly  comical  this  after- 
noon! "  cries  ]\Iadam  Esmond,  with  a  neat  little  laugh, 
whilst  her  son  listened  to  the  storj^  looking  more  glum 
than  ever.  "  What  Sir  Robert  is  there  at  Norfolk?  Is 
he  one  of  the  newly  arrived  army-gentlemen?  " 

"  The  General  meant  Norfolk  at  home,  JNIadam,  not 
Norfolk  in  Virginia,"  said  Colonel  Washington.  "  Mr. 
Braddock  had  been  talking  of  a  visit  to  Sir  Robert  Wal- 
pole,  who  lived  in  that  county,  and  of  the  great  hunts 
the  old  Minister  kept  there,  and  of  his  grand  palace, 
and  his  pictures  at  Houghton.  I  should  like  to  see 
a  good  field  and  a  good  fox-chase  at  home  better  than 
any  sight  in  the  world,"  the  honest  sportsman  added 
with  a  sigh. 

"  Nevertheless,  there  is  good  sport  here,  as  I  was  say- 
ing," said  young  Esmond,  with  a  sneer. 

"  What  sport? "  cries  the  other,  looking  at  him. 

"  Why,  sure  you  know,  without  looking  at  me  so 
fiercely,  and  stamping  your  foot,  as  if  you  were  going 
to  charge  me  with  the  foils.  Are  you  not  the  best  sports- 
man of  the  country-side?  Are  there  not  all  the  fish  of 
the  field,  and  the  beasts  of  the  trees,  and  the  fowls  of  the 
sea — no — the  fish  of  the  trees,  and  the  beasts  of  the  sea — 
and  the— bah!  You  know  what  I  mean.  I  mean  shad, 
and  salmon,  and  rockfish,  and  roe-deer,  and  hogs,  and 
buffaloes,  and  bisons,  and  elephants,  for  what  I  know. 
I'm  no  sportsman." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Washington,  with  a  look 
of  scarcely  repressed  scorn. 

"  Yes,  I  understand  j^ou.  I  am  a  milksop.  I  have 
been  bred  at  my  mamma's  knee.  Look  at  these  pretty 
apron-strings.  Colonel!  Who  would  not  like  to  be  tied 
to  them?     See  of  what  a  chaiTning  colour  they  are!     I 


THE  VIRGINIANS  101 

remember  when  they  were  black— that  was  for  my 
grandfather." 

"  And  who  would  not  mourn  for  such  a  gentleman?  " 
said  the  Colonel,  as  the  widow,  surprised,  looked  at  her 
son. 

"  And,  indeed,  I  wish  my  grandfather  were  here,  and 
would  resurge,  as  he  promises  to  do  on  his  tombstone; 
and  would  bring  my  father,  the  Ensign,  with  him." 

"Ah,  Harry!"  cries  Mrs.  Esmond,  bursting  into 
tears,  as  at  this  juncture  her  second  son  entered  the  room 
—in  just  such  another  suit,  gold-corded  frock,  braided 
waistcoat,  silver-hilted  sword,  and  solitaire  as  that  which 
his  elder  brother  wore.  "Oh,  Harry,  Harry!"  cries 
Madam  Esmond,  and  flies  to  her  younger  son. 

"  What  is  it,  mother?  "  asks  Harry,  taking  her  in  his 
arms.     "  What  is  the  matter.  Colonel?  " 

"  Upon  my  life,  it  would  puzzle  me  to  say,"  answered 
the  Colonel,  biting  his  lips. 

"  A  mere  question,  Hal,  about  pink  ribbons,  which  I 
think  vastly  becoming  to  our  mother;  as,  no  doubt,  the 
Colonel  does." 

"  Sir,  will  you  please  to  speak  for  yourself?  "  cried  the 
Colonel,  bustling  up,  and  then  sinking  his  voice  again. 

"  He  speaks  too  much  for  himself,"  wept  the  widow. 

"  I  protest  I  don't  any  more  know  the  source  of  these 
tears,  than  the  source  of  the  Nile,"  said  George,  "  and 
if  the  picture  of  my  father  were  to  begin  to  cry,  I  should 
almost  as  much  wonder  at  the  paternal  tears.  What  have 
I  uttered?  An  allusion  to  ribbons!  Is  there  some  ])oi- 
soned  pin  in  them,  whicli  has  been  stuck  into  my  mother's 
heart  by  a  guilty  fiend  of  a  I^ondon  mantua-maker?  I 
professed  to  wish  to  be  led  in  tlicse  lovely  reins  all  my 
life  long,"  and  he  turned  a  pirouette  on  his  scarlet  heels. 


102  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"George  Warrington!  what  devil's  dance  are  you 
dancing  now?  "  asked  Harry,  who  loved  his  mother,  who 
loved  My.  Washington,  but  who,  of  all  creatures,  loved 
and  admired  his  brother  George. 

"  My  dear  child,  you  do  not  understand  dancing— you 
care  not  for  the  politer  arts — you  can  get  no  more  music 
out  of  a  spinnet  than  by  pulling  a  dead  hog  by  the  ear. 
By  nature  you  were  made  for  a  man— a  man  of  war— I 
do  not  mean  a  seventy-four.  Colonel  George,  like  that 
hulk  which  brought  the  hulking  Mr.  Braddock  into  our 
river.  His  Excellency,  too,  is  a  man  of  warlike  turn,  a 
follower  of  the  sj)orts  of  the  field.  I  am  a  milksop,  as  I 
have  had  the  honour  to  say." 

"  You  never  showed  it  yet.  You  beat  that  great 
Maryland  man  was  twice  your  size,"  breaks  out  Harry. 

"  Under  compulsion,  Harry.  'Tis  tujjto,  my  lad,  or 
else  'tis  tuptomai,  as  thy  breech  well  knew  when  we  fol- 
lowed school.  But  I  am  of  a  quiet  turn,  and  would  never 
lift  my  hand  to  pull  a  trigger,  no,  nor  a  nose,  nor  any- 
thing but  a  rose,"  and  here  he  took  and  handled  one  of 
JNIadam  Esmond's  bright  pink  apron  ribbons.  "  I  hate 
sporting,  which  you  and  the  Colonel  love,  and  I  want  to 
shoot  nothing  alive,  not  a  turkey,  nor  a  titmouse,  nor  an 
ox,  nor  an  ass,  nor  anything  that  has  ears.  Those  curls 
of  Mr.  Washington's  are  prettily  powdered." 

The  militia  colonel,  who  had  been  offended  by  the  first 
part  of  the  talk,  and  very  much  puzzled  by  the  last,  had 
taken  a  modest  draught  from  the  great  china  bowl  of 
apple  toddy  which  stood  to  welcome  the  guests  in  this 
as  in  all  Virginian  houses,  and  was  further  cooling  him- 
self by  pacing  the  balcony  in  a  very  stately  manner. 

Again  almost  reconciled  with  the  elder,  the  appeased 
mother  stood  giving  a  hand  to  each  of  her  sons.    George 


THE  VIRGINIANS  103 

put  his  disengaged  hand  on  Harry's  shoulder.  "  I  say- 
one  thing,  George,"  says  he  with  a  flushing  face. 

"  Say  twenty  things,  Don  Enrico,"  cries  the  other. 

"  If  you  are  not  fond  of  sporting  and  that,  and  don't 
care  for  kilhng  game  and  hunting,  being  cleverer  than 
me,  why  shouldst  thou  not  stop  at  home  and  be  quiet,  and 
let  me  go  out  with  Colonel  George  and  Mr.  Braddock? 
—that's  what  I  say,"  says  Harry,  delivering  himself  of 
his  speech. 

The  widow  looked  eagerly  from  the  dark -haired  to 
the  fair-haired  bo}^  She  knew  not  from  which  she  would 
like  to  part. 

"  One  of  our  family  must  go  because  honneur  oblige, 
and  my  name  being  number  one,  number  one  must  go 
first,"  says  George. 

"  Told  you  so,"  said  poor  Harry. 

"  One  must  stay,  or  who  is  to  look  after  mother  at 
home?  We  cannot  afford  to  be  both  scalped  by  Indians 
or  fricasseed  by  French." 

"Fricasseed  by  French!"  cries  Harry;  "the  best 
troops  of  the  world,  Englishmen!  I  should  like  to  see 
them  fricasseed  by  the  French !  What  a  mortal  thrash- 
ing you  will  give  them ! "  and  the  brave  lad  sighed  to 
think  he  should  not  be  present  at  the  battue. 

George  sat  down  to  the  harpsichord  and  played  and 
sang  "  Malbrook  s'en  va  t'en  guerre  Mironton  mironton 
mirontaine,"  at  the  sound  of  which  music  the  gentleman 
from  the  balcony  entered.  "  I  am  playing  '  God  save 
the  King,'  Colonel,  in  compliment  to  the  new  expedi- 
tion." 

"  I  never  know  whether  thou  art  laughing  or  in  ear- 
nest," said  the  simple  gentleman,  "  but  surely  metliinks 
that  is  not  the  air." 


104  THE  VIRGINIANS 

George  performed  ever  so  many  trills  and  quavers 
upon  his  harpsichord,  and  their  guest  watched  him,  won- 
dering, perhaps,  that  a  gentleman  of  George's  condi- 
tion could  set  himself  to  such  an  effeminate  business. 
Then  the  Colonel  took  out  his  watch,  saying  that  his  Ex- 
cellency's coach  would  be  here  almost  immediately,  and 
asking  leave  to  retire  to  his  apartment,  and  put  himself 
in  a  fit  condition  to  appear  before  her  ladyship's  com- 
pany. 

"  Colonel  Washington  knows  the  way  to  his  room 
pretty  well!  "  said  George,  from  the  harpsichord,  look- 
ing over  his  shoulder,  but  never  offering  to  stir. 

"  Let  7ne  show  the  Colonel  to  his  chamber,"  cried  the 
widow,  in  great  wrath,  and  sailed  out  of  the  apartment, 
followed  by  the  enraged  and  bewildered  Colonel,  as 
George  continued  crashing  among  the  keys.  Her  high- 
spirited  guest  felt  himself  insulted,  he  could  hardly  say 
how;  he  was  outraged  and  he  could  not  speak;  he  was 
almost  stifling  with  anger. 

Harry  Warrington  remarked  their  friend's  condition. 
"  For  heaven's  sake,  George,  what  does  this  all  mean? '" 
he  asked  his  brother.  "  Why  shouldn't  he  kiss  her 
hand ?  "  ( George  had  just  before  fetched  out  his  brother 
from  their  library,  to  watch  this  harmless  salute. )  "  I 
tell  3^ou  it  is  nothing  but  common  kindness." 

"Nothing  but  common  kindness!"  shrieked  out 
George.  "  Look  at  that,  Hal!  Is  that  common  kind- 
ness? "  and  he  showed  his  junior  the  unlucky  paper  over 
which  he  had  been  brooding  for  some  time.  It  was  but 
a  fragment,  though  the  meaning  was  indeed  clear  with- 
out the  preceding  text. 

The  paper  commenced  .  .  .  "is  older  than  myself , 
but  I J  agairij  am  older  than  my  years;  and  you  know. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  105 

dear  brother,  have  ever  been  considered  a  sober  person. 
All  children  are  better  for  a  father's  superintendence, 
and  her  ttco,  I  trust,  mil  find  in  me  a  tender  friend  and 
guai'dian." 

"Friend  and  guardian!  Curse  him!"  shrieked  out 
George,  clenching  his  fists— and  his  brother  read  on: 

"  ...  The  flattering  offer  which  General  Braddock 
hath  made  me,  will,  of  course,  oblige  me  to  postpone  this 
matter  until  after  the  camjJaign.  When  we  have  given 
the  French  a  sufficient  drubbing,  I  shall  return  to  repose 
under  my  own  vine  and  fig-tree." 

"  He  means  Castlewood.  These  are  his  vines," 
George  cries  again,  shaking  his  fist  at  the  creepers  sun- 
ning themselves  on  the  wall. 

"" .  .  .  Under  my  own  vine  and  fig-tree;  where  I  hope 
soon  to  present  my  dear  brother  to  his  new  sister-in-law. 
She  has  a  pretty  Scripture  name,  which  is  .  .  /"—and 
here  the  document  ended. 

"  Which  is  Rachel,"  George  went  on  bitterly.  "  Ra- 
chel is  by  no  means  weeping  for  her  children,  and  has 
every  desire  to  be  comforted.  Now,  Harry!  I^et  us 
up  stairs  at  once,  kneel  down  as  becomes  us,  and  say, 
*  Dear  papa,  welcome  to  your  house  of  Castlewood.' " 


CHAPTER  IX 


HOSPITALITIES 


IS    EXCELLENCY    the 

Commander-in-Chief  set 
forth  to  pay  his  visit  to 
Madam  Esmond  in  such 
a  state  and  splendour  as 
became  the  first  person- 
age in  all  his  Majes- 
ty's colonies,  plantations, 
and  possessions  of  North 
America.  His  guard  of 
dragoons  preceded  him 
out  of  Williamsburg  in 
the  midst  of  an  immense 
shouting  and  yelling  of 
a  loyal,  and  principally 
negro,  population.  The 
General  rode  in  his  own 
coach.  Captain  Talmadge,  his  Excellency's  Master  of 
the  Horse,  attended  him  at  the  door  of  the  ponderous 
emblazoned  vehicle,  riding  by  the  side  of  the  carriage 
during  the  journey  from  Williamsburg  to  Madam  Es- 
mond's house.  Major  Danvers,  aide-de-camp,  sat  in 
the  front  of  the  carriage  with  the  little  postmaster  from 
Philadelphia,  Mr.  Franklin,  who,  printer's  boy  as  he  had 
been,  was  a  wonderful  shrewd  person,  as  his  Excellency 
and  the  gentlemen  of  his  family  were  fain  to  acknow- 

106 


THE  VIRGINIANS  107 

ledge,  having  a  quantity  of  the  most  curious  information 
respecting  the  colony,  and  regarding  England  too,  where 
JNIr.  Franklin  had  been  more  than  once.  "  'Twas  extra- 
ordinary how  a  person  of  such  humble  origin  should  have 
•acquired  such  a  variety  of  learning  and  such  a  politeness 
of  breeding  too,  Mr.  Franklin!"  his  Excellency  was 
pleased  to  observe,  touching  his  hat  graciously  to  the 
postmaster. 

The  postmaster  bowed,  said  it  had  been  his  occasional 
good  fortune  to  fall  into  the  company  of  gentlemen  like 
his  Excellency,  and  that  he  had  taken  advantage  of  his 
opportunity  to  study  their  honours'  manners,  and  adapt 
himself  to  them  as  far  as  he  might.  As  for  education, 
he  could  not  boast  much  of  that — his  father  being  but 
in  straitened  circumstances,  and  the  advantages  small 
in  his  native  country  of  New  England:  but  he  had  done 
to  the  utmost  of  his  power,  and  gathered  what  he  could 
—he  knew  nothing  like  what  they  had  in  England. 

]Mr.  Braddock  burst  out  laughing,  and  said,  "  As  for 
education,  there  were  gentlemen  of  the  army,  by  George, 
who  didn't  know  whether  they  should  spell  bull  with  two 
b's  or  one.  He  had  heard  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  was 
no  special  good  penman.  He  had  not  the  honour  of 
serving  imder  that  noble  commander— his  Grace  was  be- 
fore his  time— but  he  thrashed  the  French  soundly,  al- 
though he  was  no  scholar." 

Mr.  Franklin  said  he  was  aware  of  both  those  facts. 

"  Nor  is  my  Duke  a  scholar,"  went  on  Mr.  Braddock 
— "  aha,  Mr.  Postmaster,  you  have  heard  that,  too— I 
see  by  the  wink  in  your  eye/' 

Mr.  Franklin  instantly  witlidrew  the  obnoxious  or 
satirical  wink  in  his  eye,  and  looked  into  the  General's 
jolly  round  face  with  a  pair  of  orbs  as  innocent  as  a 


108  THE  VIRGINIANS 

baby's.  "  He's  no  scholar,  but  he  is  a  match  for  any 
French  general  that  ever  swallowed  the  English  for 
fricassee  de  crapaud.  He  saved  the  crown  for  the  best 
of  kings,  his  royal  father,  his  Most  Gracious  Majesty 
King  George." 

Off  went  Mr.  Franklin's  hat,  and  from  his  large 
buckled  wig  escaped  a  great  halo  of  powder. 

"  He  is  the  soldier's  best  friend,  and  has  been  the 
uncompromising  enemy  of  all  beggarly  red-shanked 
Scotch  rebels  and  intriguing  Romish  Jesuits  who  would 
take  our  liberty  from  us,  and  our  religion,  by  George. 
His  royal  highness,  my  gracious  master,  is  not  a  scholar 
neither,  but  he  is  one  of  the  finest  gentlemen  in  the 
world." 

"  I  have  seen  his  royal  highness  on  horseback,  at  a 
review  of  the  Guards,  in  Hyde  Park,"  says  Mr.  Frank- 
lin. "The  Duke  is  indeed  a  very  fine  gentleman  on 
horseback." 

"  You  shall  drink  his  health  to-day,  Postmaster.  He 
is  the  best  of  masters,  the  best  of  friends,  the  best  of 
sons  to  his  royal  old  father;  the  best  of  gentlemen  that 
ever  wore  an  epaulet." 

"  Epaulets  are  quite  out  of  my  way,  sir,"  saj^s  Mr. 
Franklin,  laughing.  "  You  know  I  live  in  a  Quaker 
city. 

"  Of  course  they  are  out  of  your  waj^  my  good  friend. 
Every  man  to  his  business.  You,  and  gentlemen  of  your 
class,  to  your  books,  and  welcome.  We  don't  forbid  you ; 
we  encourage  you.  We,  to  fight  the  enemy  and  govern 
the  country.  Hey,  gentlemen?  Lord!  what  roads  j^ou 
have  in  this  colony,  and  how^  this  confounded  coach 
plunges!  Who  have  we  here,  with  the  two  negro  boys 
in  livery?    He  rides  a  good  gelding." 


THE  VIRGINIANS  109 

"  It  is  iNIr.  Washington,"  says  the  aide-de-camp. 

"  I  would  like  him  for  a  corporal  of  the  Horse 
Grenadiers,"  said  the  General.  "  He  has  a  good 
figure  on  a  horse.  He  knows  the  country  too,  Mr. 
franklin." 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  And  is  a  monstrous  genteel  young  man,  considering 
the  opportunities  he  has  had.  I  should  have  thought  he 
had  the  polish  of  Europe,  by  George  I  should." 

"  He  does  his  best,"  says  ^Mr.  Franklin,  looking  inno- 
cently at  the  stout  chief,  the  exemplar  of  English  ele- 
gance, who  sat  swagging  from  one  side  to  the  other  of 
the  carriage,  his  face  as  scarlet  as  his  coat— swearing  at 
every  word ;  ignorant  on  every  point  off  parade,  except 
the  merits  of  a  bottle  and  the  looks  of  a  woman ;  not  of 
high  birth,  yet  absurdly  proud  of  his  no-ancestry;  brave 
as  a  bull-dog ;  savage,  lustful,  prodigal,  generous ;  gen- 
tle in  soft  moods;  easy  of  love  and  laughter;  dull  of 
wit;  utterly  unread;  believing  his  country  the  first  in 
the  world,  and  he  as  good  a  gentleman  as  any  in  it. 
*'  Yes,  he  is  mighty  well  for  a  provincial,  upon  my 
word.  He  was  beat  at  Fort  What-d'ye-call-'um  last 
year,  down  by  the  Thingamy  River.  What's  the  name 
on't,  Talmadge?" 

"  The  Lord  knows,  sir,"  says  Talmadge;  "  and  I  dare 
say  the  Postmaster,  too,  who  is  laughing  at  us  both." 

"Oh,  Captain!" 

"  Was  caught  in  a  regular  trap.  He  liad  only  militia 
and  Indians  with  him.  Good-day,  Mr.  Washington.  A 
pretty  nag,  sir.     That  was  your  first  affair,  last  year?  " 

"  That  at  Fort  Necessity?  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  gentle- 
man, gravely  saluting,  as  he  rode  up,  followed  by  a 
couple  of  natty  negro  grooms,  in  smart  livery  coats  and 


no  THE  VIRGINIANS 

velvet  hunting-caps.  "  I  began  ill,  sir,  never  having 
been  in  action  until  that  unlucky  day." 

"  You  were  all  raw  levies,  my  good  fellow.  You 
should  have  seen  our  militia  run  from  the  Scotch,  and  be 
cursed  to  them.  You  should  have  had  some  troops  with 
you." 

"  Your  Excellency  knows  'tis  my  passionate  desire  to 
see  and  serve  with  them,"  said  Mr.  Washington. 

"  By  George,  we  shall  try  and  gratify  you,  sir,"  said 
the  General,  with  one  of  his  usual  huge  oaths ;  and  on  the 
heavy  carriage  rolled  towards  Castlewood;  Mr.  Wash- 
ington asking  leave  to  gallop  on  ahead,  in  order  to  an- 
nounce his  Excellency's  speedy  arrival  to  the  lady  there. 

The  progress  of  the  Commander-in-Chief  was  so  slow, 
that  several  humbler  persons  who  were  invited  to  meet 
his  Excellency  came  up  with  his  carriage,  and,  not  liking 
to  pass  the  great  man  on  the  road,  formed  quite  a  pro- 
cession in  the  dusty  wake  of  his  chariot-wheels.  First 
came  Mr.  Dinwiddie,  the  Lieutenant-Governor  of  his 
Majesty's  province,  attended  by  his  negro-servants,  and 
in  company  of  Parson  Broadbent,  the  jolly  Williams- 
burg chaplain.  These  were  presently  joined  by  little 
Mr.  Dempster,  the  young  gentlemen's  schoolmaster,  in 
his  great  Ramillies  wig,  which  he  kept  for  occasions  of 
state.  Anon  appeared  Mr.  Laws,  the  judge  of  the  court, 
M'ith  Madam  Laws  on  a  pillion  behind  him,  and  their 
negro  man  carrying  a  box  containing  her  ladyship's  cap, 
and  bestriding  a  mule.  The  procession  looked  so  ludi- 
crous, that  Major  Dan  vers  and  Mr.  Franklin  espying  it, 
laughed  outright,  though  not  so  loud  as  to  disturb  his 
Excellency,  who  was  asleep  by  this  time,  and  bade  the 
whole  of  this  queer  rear-guard  move  on,  and  leave  the 
Commander-in-Chief  and  his  escort  of  dragoons  to  fol- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  111 

low  at  their  leisure.  There  was  room  for  all  at  Castle- 
wood  when  they  came.  There  was  meat,  drink,  and  the 
best  tobacco  for  his  Majesty's  soldiers;  and  laughing 
and  jollity  for  the  negroes;  and  a  plenteous  welcome  for 
their  masters. 

The  honest  General  required  to  be  helped  to  most 
dishes  at  the  table,  and  more  than  once,  and  was  for  ever 
holding  out  his  glass  for  drink;  Nathan's  sangaree  he 
pronounced  to  be  excellent,  and  had  drunk  largely  of 
it  on  arriving  before  dinner.  There  was  cider,  ale, 
brandy,  and  plenty  of  good  Bordeaux  wine,  some  which 
Colonel  Esmond  himself  had  brought  home  with  him  to 
the  colony,  and  which  was  fit  for  jJonteeficis  coenis,  said 
little  Mr.  Dempster,  with  a  wink  to  Mr.  Broadbent,  the 
clergyman  of  the  adjoining  parish.  Mr.  Broadbent  re- 
turned the  wink  and  nod,  and  drank  the  wine  without 
caring  about  the  Latin,  as  why  should  he,  never  having 
hitherto  troubled  himself  about  the  language?  Mr. 
Broadbent  was  a  gambling,  guzzling,  cock-fighting 
divine,  who  had  passed  much  time  in  the  Fleet  prison, 
at  Newmarket,  at  Hockley  in  the  Hole;  and  having 
gone  of  all  sorts  of  errands  for  his  friend.  Lord  Cinq- 
bars,  Lord  Ringwood's  son,  (my  lady  Cinqbars's  wait- 
ing-woman being  Mr.  B.'s  mother— I  dare  say  the  mod- 
ern reader  had  best  not  be  too  particular  regarding  Mr. 
Broadbent's  father's  pedigree,)  had  been  of  late  sent 
out  to  a  church-living  in  Virginia.  He  and  young  Harry 
had  fought  many  a  match  of  cocks  together,  taken  many 
a  roe  in  company,  liauled  in  countless  quantities  of  shad 
and  salmon,  slain  wild  geese  and  wild  swans,  pigeons 
and  plovers,  and  destroyed  myriads  of  canvas-backed 
ducks.  It  was  said  by  the  envious  that  Broadbent  was 
the  midnight  poacher  on  whom  Mr.  Washington  set 


112  THE  VIRGINIANS 

his  dogs,  and  whom  he  caned  by  the  river-side  at  Mount 
Vernon.  The  fellow  got  away  from  his  captor's  grip, 
and  scrambled  to  his  boat  in  the  dark;  but  Broadbent 
was  laid  up  for  two  Sundays  afterwards,  and  when  he 
came  abroad  again,  had  the  evident  remains  of  a  black 
eye,  and  a  new  collar  to  his  coat.  All  the  games  at 
the  cards  had  Harry  Esmond  and  Parson  Broad- 
bent  played  together,  besides  hunting  all  the  birds  in 
the  air,  the  beasts  in  the  forest,  and  the  fish  of  the  sea. 
Indeed,  when  the  boys  rode  together  to  get  their  reading 
with  Mr.  Dempster,  I  suspect  that  Harry  stayed  behind 
and  took  lessons  from  the  other  professor  of  European 
learning  and  accomplishments, — George  going  his  own 
way,  reading  his  own  books,  and,  of  course,  telling  no 
tales  of  his  younger  brother. 

All  the  birds  of  the  Virginia  air,  and  all  the  fish  of  the 
sea  in  season  were  here  laid  on  INIadam  Esmond's  board 
to  feed  his  Excellency  and  the  rest  of  the  English  and 
American  gentlemen.  The  gumbo  was  declared  to  be 
perfection  ( young  Mr.  Harry's  black  servant  was  named 
after  this  dish,  being  discovered  behind  the  door  with 
his  head  in  a  bowl  of  this  delicious  hotch-potch  by  the 
late  Colonel,  and  grimly  christened  on  the  spot) ,  the  shad 
were  rich  and  fresh,  the  stewed  terrapins  were  worthy 
of  London  aldermen  (before  George,  he  would  like  the 
Duke  himself  to  taste  them,  his  Excellency  deigned  to 
say),  and  indeed,  stewed  terrapins  are  worthy  of  any 
duke  or  even  emperor.  The  negro-women  have  a  genius 
for  cookery,  and  in  Castlewood  kitchens  there  were 
adepts  in  the  art  brought  up  under  the  keen  eye  of  the 
late  and  the  present  Madam  Esmond.  Certain  of  the 
dishes,  and  especially  the  sweets  and  flans.  Madam  Es- 
mond prepared  herself  with  great  neatness  and  dexter- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  113 

it}" ;  carving  several  of  the  principal  pieces,  as  the  kindly 
cumbrous  fashion  of  the  day  was,  putting  up  the  laced 
lappets  of  her  sleeves,  and  showing  the  prettiest  round 
arms  and  small  hands  and  wrists  as  she  performed  this 
ancient  rite  of  a  hospitality  not  so  languid  as  ours.  The 
old  law  of  the  table  was  that  the  mistress  was  to  press 
her  guests  with  a  decent  eagerness,  to  watch  and  see 
whom  she  could  encourage  to  farther  enjoyment,  to 
know  culinar}^  anatomic  secrets,  and  execute  carving 
operations  upon  fowls,  fish,  game,  joints  of  meat,  and 
so  forth;  to  cheer  her  guests  to  fresh  efforts,  to  whisper 
her  neighbour,  ^Ir.  Braddock:  "  I  have  kept  for  your 
Excellency  the  jowl  of  this  salmon.  —  I  tvill  take  no 
denial!  JNIr.  Franklin,  you  drink  only  water,  sir,  though 
our  cellar  has  wholesome  wine  which  gives  no  headaches. 
—Mr.  Justice,  you  love  woodcock  pie?  " 

"  Because  I  know  who  makes  the  pastry,"  says  Mr. 
Laws,  the  Judge,  with  a  profound  bow.  "  I  wish, 
Madam,  we  had  such  a  happy  knack  of  pastry  at  home 
as  you  have  at  Castlewood.  I  often  say  to  my  wife, '  My 
dear,  I  wish  you  had  Madam  Esmond's  hand.'  " 

"  It  is  a  very  pretty  hand:  I  am  sure  others  would 
like  it  too,"  says  Mr.  Postmaster  of  Boston,  at  which  re- 
mark Mr.  Esmond  looks  but  half -pleased  at  the  little 
gentleman. 

"  Such  a  hand  for  a  ligiit  pie-crust,"  continues  tlie 
Judge,  "  and  my  service  to  you,  Madam."  And  lie 
thinks  the  widow  cannot  but  be  propitiated  by  this  com- 
pliment. She  says  simply  tliat  slie  had  lessons  when  she 
was  at  home  in  England  for  her  education,  and  that  there 
were  certain  dishes  which  her  motlier  taught  her  to  make, 
and  which  her  father  and  sons  botli  liked.  She  was  very 
glad  if  they  ])leased  her  company.     More  such  remarks 


114  THE  VIRGINIANS 

follow :  more  dishes ;  ten  times  as  much  meat  as  is  need- 
ful for  the  company.  Mr.  Washington  does  not  embark 
in  the  general  conversation  much,  but  he  and  Mr.  Tal- 
madge,  and  Major  Danvers,  and  the  Postmaster,  are 
deep  in  talk  about  roads,  rivers,  conveyances,  sumpter- 
horses  and  artillery  train;  and  the  provincial  militia 
Colonel  has  bits  of  bread  laid  at  intervals  on  the  table 
before  him,  and  stations  marked  out,  on  which  he  has 
his  finger,  and  regarding  which  he  is  talking  to  his 
brother  aides-de-camp,  till  a  negro-servant,  changing  the 
courses,  brushes  off  the  Potomac  with  a  napkin,  and 
sweeps  up  the  Ohio  in  a  spoon. 

At  the  end  of  dinner,  Mr.  Broadbent  leaves  his  place 
and  walks  up  behind  the  Lieutenant-Governor's  chair, 
where  he  says  Grace,  returning  to  his  seat  and  resuming 
his  knife  and  fork  when  this  work  of  devotion  is  over. 
And  now  the  sweets  and  puddings  are  come,  of  which  I 
can  give  j^ou  a  list,  if  you  like;  but  what  young  lady 
cares  for  the  puddings  of  to-day,  much  more  for  those 
which  were  eaten  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  which  JMadam 
Esmond  had  prepared  for  her  guests  with  so  much  neat- 
ness and  skill?  Then,  the  table  being  cleared,  Nathan, 
her  chief -manager,  lays  a  glass  to  every  person,  and  fills 
his  mistress's.  Bowing  to  the  company,  she  says  she 
drinks  but  one  toast,  but  knows  how  heartily  all  the 
gentlemen  present  will  join  her.  Then  she  calls,  "  His 
Majesty,"  bowing  to  Mr.  Braddock,  who  with  his  aides- 
de-camp  and  the  colonial  gentlemen  all  loyally  repeat 
the  name  of  their  beloved  and  gracious  Sovereign.  And 
hereupon,  having  drunk  her  glass  of  wine  and  saluted 
all  the  company,  the  widow  retires  between  a  row  of 
negro-servants,  performing  one  of  her  very  handsomest 
curtseys  at  the  door. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  115 

The  kind  IMistress  of  Castlewood  bore  her  part  in 
the  entertainment  with  admirable  spirit,  and  looked  so 
gay  and  handsome,  and  spoke  with  such  cheerfulness  and 
courage  to  all  her  company,  that  the  few  ladies  who  were 
r: present  at  the  dinner,  could  not  but  congratulate 
jNIadam  Esmond  upon  the  elegance  of  the  feast,  and 
especially  upon  her  manner  of  presiding  at  it.  But  they 
were  scarcely  got  to  her  drawing-room,  when  her  arti- 
ficial courage  failed  her,  and  she  burst  into  tears  on  the 
sofa  by  JNIrs.  Laws'  side,  just  in  the  midst  of  a  compli- 
ment from  that  lady.  "  Ah,  Madam!  "  she  said.  "  It 
may  be  an  honour,  as  you  say,  to  have  the  King's  repre- 
sentative in  my  house,  and  our  family  has  received 
greater  personages  than  Mr.  Braddock.  But  he  comes 
to  take  one  of  my  sons  away  from  me.  Who  knows 
whether  my  boy  will  return,  or  how?  I  dreamed  of  him 
last  night  as  wounded,  and  quite  white,  with  blood 
streaming  from  his  side.  I  would  not  be  so  ill-mannered 
as  to  let  my  grief  be  visible  before  the  gentlemen ;  but,  my 
good  Mrs.  Justice,  who  has  parted  with  children,  and 
who  has  a  mother's  heart  of  her  own,  would  like  me  none 
the  better,  if  mine  were  very  easy  this  evening." 

The  ladies  administered  such  consolations  as  seemed 
proper  or  palatable  to  their  hostess,  who  tried  not  to 
give  way  farther  to  her  melancholy,  and  rcmcm])cred 
that  she  had  other  duties  to  perform,  before  yielding  to 
her  own  sad  mood.  "  It  will  be  time  enough,  JNIadam, 
to  be  sorry  when  they  are  gone,"  she  said  to  the  Justice's 
wife,  her  good  neiglibour.  "  ]\Iy  boy  must  not  see  me 
following  him  with  a  wistful  face,  and  have  our  ])ai"ting 
made  more  dismal  by  my  weakness.  It  is  good  tliat 
gentlemen  of  his  rank  and  station  slioiild  show  them- 
selves where  their  country  calls  them.     That  has  always 


116  THE  VIRGINIANS 

been  the  way  of  the  Esmonds,  and  the  same  Power  which 
graciously  preserved  my  dear  father  through  twenty 
great  battles  in  the  Queen's  time,  I  trust  and  pray,  will 
watch  over  my  son  now  his  turn  is  come  to  do  his  duty." 
And,  now,  instead  of  lamenting  her  fate,  or  farther  al- 
luding to  it,  I  dare  say  the  resolute  lady  sat  down  with 
her  female  friends  to  a  pool  of  cards  and  a  dish  of  coffee, 
whilst  the  gentlemen  remained  in  the  neighbouring  par- 
lour, still  calling  their  toasts  and  drinking  their  wine. 
When  one  lady  objected  that  these  latter  were  sitting 
rather  long.  Madam  Esmond  said:  "  It  would  improve 
and  amuse  the  boys  to  be  with  the  English  gentlemen. 
Such  society  was  very  rarely  to  be  had  in  their  distant 
province,  and  though  their  conversation  sometimes  was 
free,  she  was  sure  that  gentlemen  and  men  of  fashion 
would  have  regard  to  the  youth  of  her  sons,  and  say 
nothing  before  them  which  young  people  should  not 
hear." 

It  was  evident  that  the  English  gentlemen  relished  the 
good  cheer  provided  for  them.  Whilst  the  ladies  were 
yet  at  their  cards,  Nathan  came  in  and  whispered  Mrs. 
Mountain,  who  at  first  cried  out — "  No;  she  would  give 
no  more— the  common  Bordeaux  they  might  have,  and 
welcome,  if  they  still  wanted  more — but  she  would  not 
give  any  more  of  the  Colonel's."  It  appeared  that  the 
dozen  bottles  of  particular  claret  had  been  already  drunk 
up  by  the  gentlemen,  "  besides  ale,  cider.  Burgundy, 
Lisbon,  and  Madeira,"  says  Mrs.  Mountain,  enumerat- 
ing the  supplies. 

But  Madam  Esmond  was  for  having  no  stint  in  the 
hospitality  of  the  night.  Mrs.  Mountain  was  fain  to 
bustle  away  with  her  keys  to  the  sacred  vault  where  the 
Colonel's  particular  Bordeaux  lay,  surviving  its  master. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  117 

who,  too,  had  long  passed  underground.  As  they  went 
on  their  journey,  INIrs.  INIountain  asked  whether  any  of 
the  gentlemen  had  had  too  much?  Nathan  thought  INIis- 
ter  Broadbent  was  tipsy — he  always  tipsy;  he  then 
thought  the  General  gentleman  was  tipsy;  and  he 
thought  IMaster  George  was  a  lilly  drunk. 

"Master  George!"  cries  Mrs.  Mountain:  "why,  he 
will  sit  for  days  without  touching  a  drop." 

Nevertheless,  Nathan  persisted  in  his  notion  that  Mas- 
ter George  was  a  lilly  drunk.  He  was  always  filling 
his  glass,  he  had  talked,  he  had  sung,  he  had  cut  jokes, 
especially  against  Mr.  Washington,  which  made  INIr. 
Washington  quite  red  and  angry,  Nathan  said.  "  Well, 
well!"  Mrs.  Mountain  cried  eagerly;  "it  was  right  a 
gentleman  should  make  himself  merry  in  good  company, 
and  pass  the  bottle  along  with  his  friends."  And  she 
trotted  to  the  particular  Bordeaux  cellar  with  only  the 
more  alacrity. 

The  tone  of  freedom  and  almost  impertinence  which 
young  George  Esmond  had  adopted  of  late  days  towards 
Mr.  Washington  had  very  deeply  vexed  and  annoyed 
that  gentleman.  There  was  scarce  half-a-dozen  years' 
difference  of  age  between  him  and  the  Castlewood  twins ; 
but  Mr.  Washington  had  always  been  remarked  for  a 
discretion  and  sobriety  much  beyond  his  time  of  life, 
whilst  the  boys  of  Castlewood  seemed  younger  than 
theirs.  They  had  always  been  till  now  under  tlieir 
mother's  anxious  tutelage,  and  had  looked  up  to  their 
neighbour  of  Mount  Vernon  as  their  guide,  director, 
friend— as,  indeed,  almost  everybody  seemed  to  do  who 
came  in  contact  with  the  simple  and  upright  young  man. 
Himself  of  the  most  scrupulous  gravity  and  good-breed- 
ing, in  his  communication  with  other  folks  he  appeared 


118  THE  VIRGINIANS 

to  exact,  or,  at  any  rate,  to  occasion,  the  same  behaviour. 
His  nature  was  above  levity  and  jokes:  they  seemed  out 
of  place  when  addressed  to  him.  He  was  slow  of  com- 
prehending them :  and  they  slunk  as  it  were  abashed  out 
of  his  society.  "  He  always  seemed  great  to  me,"  says 
Harry  Warrington,  in  one  of  his  letters  many  years  after 
the  date  of  which  we  are  writing;  "  and  I  never  thought 
of  him  otherwise  than  as  a  hero.  When  he  came  over  to 
Castlewood  and  taught  us  boys  surveying,  to  see  him 
riding  to  hounds,  was  as  if  he  was  charging  an  army.  If 
he  fired  a  shot,  I  thought  the  bird  must  come  down,  and 
if  he  flung  a  net,  the  largest  fish  in  the  river  were  sure 
to  be  in  it.  His  words  were  always  few,  but  they  were 
always  wise ;  they  were  not  idle,  as  our  words  are ;  they 
were  grave,  sober,  and  strong,  and  ready  on  occasion 
to  do  their  duty.  In  spite  of  his  antipathy  to  him,  my 
brother  respected  and  admired  the  General  as  much  as 
I  did — that  is  to  say,  more  than  any  mortal  man." 

Mr.  Washington  was  the  first  to  leave  the  jovial  party 
which  were  doing  so  much  honour  to  Madam  Esmond's 
hospitality.  Young  George  Esmond,  who  had  taken  his 
mother's  place  when  she  left  it,  had  been  free  with  the 
glass  and  with  the  tongue.  He  had  said  a  score  of  things 
to  his  guest  which  wounded  and  chafed  the  latter,  and 
to  which  Mr.  Washington  could  give  no  reply.  Angry 
beyond  all  endurance,  he  left  the  table  at  length,  and 
walked  away  through  the  open  windows  into  the  broad 
veranda  or  porch  which  belonged  to  Castlewood  as  to 
all  Virginian  houses. 

Here  Madam  Esmond  caught  sight  of  her  friend's 
tall  frame  as  it  strode  up  and  down  before  the  windows ; 
and,  the  evening  being  warm,  or  her  game  over,  she  gave 
up  her  cards  to  one  of  the  other  ladies,  and  joined  her 


THE  VIRGINIANS  119 

good  neighbour  out  of  doors.  He  tried  to  compose  his 
countenance  as  well  as  he  could:  it  was  impossible  that 
he  should  explain  to  his  hostess  why  and  with  whom  he 
^as  angry. 

"  The  gentlemen  are  long  over  their  wine,"  she  said; 
"  gentlemen  of  the  army  are  always  fond  of  it." 

"  If  drinking  makes  good  soldiers,  some  yonder  are 
distinguishing  themselves  greatly,  Madam,"  said  Mr. 
Washington. 

"  And  I  dare  say  the  General  is  at  the  head  of  his 
troops? " 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,"  answered  the  Colonel,  who  al- 
ways received  this  lady's  remarks,  playful  or  serious, 
with  a  peculiar  softness  and  kindness.  "  But  the  Gen- 
eral is  the  General,  and  it  is  not  for  me  to  make  remarks 
on  his  Excellency's  doings  at  table  or  elsewhere.  I 
think  very  likely  that  military  gentlemen  born  and  bred 
at  home  are  different  from  us  of  the  colonies.  We  have 
such  a  hot  sun,  that  we  need  not  wine  to  fire  our  blood 
as  they  do.  And  drinking  toasts  seems  a  point  of  honour 
with  them.  Talmadge  hiccupped  to  me— I  should  say, 
whispered  to  me — just  now,  that  an  officer  could  no  more 
refuse  a  toast  than  a  challenge,  and  he  said  that  it  was 
after  the  greatest  difficulty  and  dislike  at  first  that  he 
learned  to  drink.  He  has  certainly  overcome  his  diffi- 
culty with  imcommon  resolution." 

"  What,  I  wonder,  can  you  talk  of  for  so  many 
hours?  "  asked  the  lady. 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  tell  you  all  we  talk  of.  Madam, 
and  I  must  not  tell  tales  out  of  school.  We  talked  about 
the  war,  and  of  the  force  IMr.  Contrecoeur  has,  and  liovv 
we  are  to  get  at  liini.  The  Cieneral  is  for  making  the 
campaign  in  his  coach,  and  makes  liglit  of  it  and  the 


120  THE  VIRGINIANS 

enemj^  That  we  shall  beat  them,  if  we  meet  them,  I 
trust  there  is  no  doubt." 

"How  can  there  be?"  says  the  lady,  whose  father 
had  served  under  Marlborough. 

"  Mr.  Franklin,  though  he  is  only  from  New  Eng- 
land," continued  the  gentleman,  "  spoke  great  good 
sense,  and  would  have  spoken  more  if  the  English 
gentlemen  would  let  him ;  but  they  reply  invariably  that 
we  are  only  raw  provincials,  and  don't  know  what  dis- 
ciplined British  troops  can  do.  Had  they  not  best  hasten 
forwards  and  make  turnpike  roads  and  have  comfortable 
inns  ready  for  his  Excellency  at  the  end  of  the  day's 
march?—'  There's  some  sort  of  inns,  I  suppose,'  says 
]Mr.  Danvers,  '  not  so  comfortable  as  we  have  in  Eng- 
land, we  can't  expect  that.'—'  No,  you  can't  expect  that,' 
says  Mr.  Franklin,  who  seems  a  very  shrewd  and  face- 
tious person.  He  drinks  his  water,  and  seems  to  laugh  at 
the  Englislimen,  though  I  doubt  whether  it  is  fair  for 
a  water-drinker  to  sit  by  and  spy  out  the  weaknesses  of 
gentlemen  over  their  wine." 

^'  And  my  boys?  I  hope  they  are  prudent?  "  said  the 
widow,  laying  her  hand  on  her  guest's  arm.  "  Harry 
promised  me,  and  when  he  gives  his  word,  I  can  trust  him 
for  anything.  George  is  always  moderate.  Why  do 
you  look  so  grave?  " 

"  Indeed,  to  be  frank  with  you,  I  do  not  know  what 
has  come  over  George  in  these  last  days,"  says  Mr. 
Washington.  "  He  has  some  grievance  against  me 
which  I  do  not  understand,  and  of  which  I  don't  care  to 
ask  the  reason.  He  spoke  to  me  before  the  gentlemen 
in  a  way  which  scarcely  became  him.  We  are  going  the 
campaign  together,  and  'tis  a  pity  we  begin  such  ill 
friends." 


THE  VIRGINIANS  121 

"  He  has  been  ill.  He  is  always  wild  and  wayward, 
and  hard  to  understand.  But  he  has  the  most  affec- 
tionate heart  in  the  world.  You  will  bear  with  him,  you 
.will  protect  him — promise  me  you  will." 

"  Dear  lady,  I  will  do  so  with  my  life,"  Mr.  Washing- 
ton said  with  great  fervour.  "  You  know  I  would  lay 
it  down  cheerfully  for  you  or  any  you  love." 

"  And  my  father's  blessing  and  mine  go  with  you, 
dear  friend!"  cried  the  widow,  full  of  thanks  and 
affection. 

As  they  pursued  their  conversation,  they  had  quitted 
the  porch  under  which  they  had  first  begun  to  talk,  and 
where  they  could  hear  the  laughter  and  toasts  of  the 
gentlemen  over  their  wine,  and  were  pacing  a  walk  on 
the  rough  lawn  before  the  house.  Young  George  War- 
rington, from  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  table  in  the 
dining-room,  could  see  the  pair  as  they  passed  to  and 
fro,  and  had  listened  for  some  time  past,  and  replied  in 
a  very  distracted  manner  to  the  remarks  of  the  gentlemen 
round  about  him,  who  were  too  much  engaged  with  their 
own  talk  and  jokes,  and  drinking,  to  pay  much  attention 
to  their  young  host's  behaviour.  Mr.  Braddock  loved  a 
song  after  dinner,  and  Mr.  Danvers  his  aide-de-camp, 
who  had  a  fine  tenor  voice,  was  delighting  his  General 
with  the  latest  ditty  from  Marybone  Gardens,  when 
George  Warrington,  jumping  up,  ran  towards  the 
window,  and  then  returned  and  pulled  his  brother 
Harry  by  the  sleeve,  who  sat  with  his  back  towards  the 
window. 

"What  is  it?"  says  Harry,  who,  for  his  part,  was 
charmed  too  with  the  song  and  chorus. 

"  Come,"  cried  George,  with  a  stamp  of  his  foot,  and 
the  younger  followed  obediently. 


122  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  What  is  it?  "  continued  George,  with  a  bitter  oath. 
"  Don't  you  see  what  it  is  ?  They  were  bilhng  and  cooing 
this  morning;  they  are  bilhng  and  cooing  now  before 
going  to  roost.  Had  we  not  better  both  go  into  the 
garden,  and  pay  our  duty  to  our  mamma  and  papa?  " 
and  he  pointed  to  Mr.  Washington,  'who  was  taking  the 
widow's  hand  very  tenderly  in  his. 


SIC  't;  ^  ^ 


A  Steplatbei- 
in  Prospect 


CHAPTER  X 


A   HOT   AFTERNOON 

ENERAL  BRADDOCK 

and  the  other 
guests  of  Castle- 
wood  being  duly 
consigned  to  their 
respective  quar- 
ters, the  boys  re- 
tired to  their  own 
room,  and  there 
poured  out  to  one 
another  their 

opinions  respect- 
ing the  great 
event  of  the  day. 
They  would  not 
bear  such  a  mar- 
riage—no. Was  the  representative  of  the  Marquises  of 
Esmond  to  marry  the  younger  son  of  a  colonial  family, 
who  had  been  bred  up  as  a  land-surveyor?  Castle  wood, 
and  the  boys  at  nineteen  years  of  age,  handed  over  to 
the  tender  mercies  of  a  step-father  of  three-and-twenty! 
Oh,  it  was  monstrous!  Harry  was  for  going  straight- 
way to  his  mother  in  her  bed-room  — where  her  black 
maidens  were  divesting  her  ladyshij)  of  the  simple  jewels 
and  fineries  which  she  had  assumed  in  compliment  to  the 

123 


124  THE  VIRGINIANS 

feast — protesting  against  the  odious  match,  and  an- 
nouncing that  they  would  go  home,  hvc  upon  their  httle 
property  there,  and  leave  her  for  ever,  if  the  unnatural 
union  took  place. 

George  advocated  another  way  of  stopping  it,  and 
explained  his  plan  to  his  admiring  brother.  "  Our 
mother,"  he  said,  "  can't  marry  a  man  with  whom  one  or 
both  of  us  has  been  out  on  the  field,  and  who  has  wounded 
us  or  killed  us,  or  whom  we  have  wounded  or  killed.  We 
must  have  him  out,  Harry." 

Harry  saw  the  profound  truth  conveyed  in  George's 
statement,  and  admired  his  brother's  immense  sagacity. 
"  No,  George,"  says  he,  "  you  are  right.  Mother  can't 
marry  our  murderer ;  she  won't  be  as  bad  as  that.  And 
if  we  pink  him,  he  is  done  for.  '  Cadit  qucestio/  as  Mr. 
Dempster  used  to  say.  Shall  I  send  my  boy  with  a  chal- 
lenge to  Colonel  George  now?  " 

"  My  dear  Harry,"  the  elder  replied,  thinking  with 
some  complacency  of  his  affair  of  honour  at  Quebec, 
"  you  are  not  accustomed  to  affairs  of  this  sort." 

"  No,"  owned  Harry,  with  a  sigh,  looking  with  envy 
and  admiration  on  his  senior. 

"  We  can't  insult  a  gentleman  in  our  own  house,"  con- 
tinued George,  with  great  majesty;  "  the  laws  of  honour 
forbid  such  inhospitable  treatment.  But,  sir,  we  can 
ride  out  with  him,  and,  as  soon  as  the  park  gates  are 
closed,  we  can  tell  him  our  mind." 

"That  we  can,  by  George !"  cries  Harry,  grasping 
his  brother's  hand,  "  and  that  we  will,  too.  I  say, 
Georgy  .  .  ."  Here  the  lad's  face  became  very  red,  and 
his  brother  asked  him  what  he  would  say. 

"  This  is  my  turn,  brother,"  Harry  pleaded.  *'  If  you 
go  the  campaign,  I  ought  to  have  the  other  affair.    In- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  125 

deed,  indeed,  I  ought."  And  he  prayed  for  this  bit  of 
promotion. 

"  Again  the  head  of  the  house  must  take  the  lead,  my 
-*dear,"  George  said,  with  a  superb  air.  "  If  I  fall,  my 
Harry  will  avenge  me.  But  I  must  fight  George  Wash- 
ington, Hal :  and  'tis  best  I  should ;  for,  indeed,  I  hate 
him  the  worst.  Was  it  not  he  who  counselled  my  mother 
to  order  that  wretch,  Ward,  to  lay  hands  on  me?" 

"  Ah,  George,"  interposed  the  more  placable  younger 
brother,  "  you  ought  to  forget  and  forgive!  " 

"  Forgive?  Never,  sir,  as  long  as  I  remember.  You 
can't  order  remembrance  out  of  a  man's  mind;  and  a 
wrong  that  was  a  wrong  yesterday  must  be  a  wrong  to- 
morrow. I  never,  of  my  knowledge,  did  one  to  any  man, 
and  I  never  will  suffer  one,  if  I  can  help  it.  I  think  very 
ill  of  Mr.  Ward,  but  I  don't  think  so  badly  of  him  as  to 
sujDpose  he  will  ever  forgive  thee  that  blow  with  the  ruler. 
Colonel  Washington  is  our  enemy,  mine  especially.  He 
has  advised  one  wrong  against  me,  and  he  meditates  a 
greater.    I  tell  you,  brother,  we  must  punish  him." 

The  grandsire's  old  Bordeaux  had  set  George's  or- 
dinarily pale  countenance  into  a  flame.  Harry,  his 
brother's  fondest  worshipper,  could  not  but  admire 
George's  haughty  bearing  and  rapid  declamation,  and 
prepared  himself,  with  his  usual  docilitj^  to  follow  his 
chief.  So  the  boys  went  to  their  beds,  the  elder  convey- 
ing special  injunctions  to  his  junior  to  be  civil  to  all 
the  guests  so  long  as  they  remained  under  the  maternal 
roof  on  the  morrow. 

Good  manners  and  a  repugnance  to  telling  tales  out 
of  school,  forljid  us  from  saying  whicli  of  Madam  Es- 
mond's guests  was  the  first  to  fall  under  the  weight  of 
her  hospitality.    The  respectable  descendants  of  Messrs. 


126 


THE  VIRGINIANS 


Talmadge  and  Danvers,  aides-de-camp  to  his  Excel- 
lency, might  not  care  to  hear  how  their  ancestors  were 
intoxicated  a  hundred  years  ago ;  and  yet  the  gentlemen 
tliemselves  took  no  shame  in  the  fact,  and  there  is  little 


doubt  they  or  their  comrades  were  tipsy  twice  or  thrice 
in  the  week.  Let  us  fancy  them  reeling  to  bed,  sup- 
ported by  sympathizing  negroes ;  and  their  vinous  Gen- 
eral, too  stout  a  toper  to  have  surrendered  himself  to  a 
half-dozen  bottles  of  Bordeaux,  conducted  to  his  cham- 
ber by  the  young  gentlemen  of  the  house,  and  speedily 
sleeping  the  sleep  which  friendly  Bacchus  gives.  The 
good  lady  of  Castlewood  saw  the  condition  of  her  guests 


THE  VIRGINIANS  127 

without  the  least  surprise  or  horror;  and  was  up  early 
in  the  morning,  providing  cooling  drinks  for  their  hot 
palates,  which  the  servants  carried  to  their  respective 
, chambers.  At  breakfast,  one  of  the  English  officers 
'rallied  ]Mr.  Franklin,  who  took  no  wine  at  all,  and 
therefore  refused  the  morning  cool  draught  of  toddy, 
by  showing  how  the  Philadelphia  gentleman  lost  two 
pleasures,  the  drink  and  the  toddy.  The  young  fel- 
low said  the  disease  was  pleasant  and  the  remedy 
delicious,  and  laughingly  proposed  to  continue  repeat- 
ing them  both.  The  General's  new  American  aide-de- 
camp, Colonel  Washington,  was  quite  sober  and  serene. 
The  British  officers  vowed  they  must  take  him  in  hand 
and  teach  him  what  the  ways  of  the  English  army  were ; 
but  the  Virginian  gentleman  gravely  said  he  did  not 
care  to  learn  that  part  of  the  English  military  education. 

The  widow,  occupied  as  she  had  been  with  the  cares 
of  a  great  dinner,  followed  by  a  great  breakfast  on  the 
morning  ensuing,  had  scarce  leisure  to  remark  the  be- 
haviour of  her  sons  very  closely,  but  at  least  saw  that 
George  was  scrupulously  polite  to  her  favourite.  Colonel 
Washington,  as  to  all  the  other  guests  of  the  house. 

Before  Mr.  Braddock  took  his  leave,  he  had  a  private 
audience  of  Madam  Esmond,  in  which  his  Excellency 
formally  offered  to  take  her  son  into  his  family;  and 
when  the  arrangements  for  George's  departure  were 
settled  between  his  mother  and  future  chief.  Madam 
Esmond,  though  she  might  feel  them,  did  not  show  any 
squeamish  terrors  about  the  dangers  of  the  bottle,  which 
she  saw  were  amongst  the  severest  and  most  certain 
which  her  son  would  have  to  face.  She  knew  her  boy 
must  take  his  part  in  the  world,  and  encounter  his  por- 
tion of  evil  and  good.    "  Mr.  Braddock  is  a  perfect  fine 


128  THE  VIRGINIANS 

gentleman  in  the  morning,"  she  said  stoutly  to  her  aide- 
de-camp,  Mrs.  Momitain;  "and  though  my  papa  did 
not  drink,  'tis  certain  that  many  of  the  best  company 
in  England  do."  The  jolly  General  good-naturedly 
shook  hands  with  George,  who  presented  himself  to  his 
Excellency  after  the  maternal  interview  was  over,  and 
bade  George  welcome,  and  to  be  in  attendance  at  Fred- 
erick three  days  hence;  shortly  after  which  time  the 
expedition  would  set  forth. 

And  now  the  great  coach  was  again  called  into  requi- 
sition, the  General's  escort  pranced  round  it,  the  other 
guests  and  their  servants  went  to  horse.  The  lady  of 
Castlewood  attended  his  Excellency  to  the  steps  of  the 
veranda  in  front  of  her  house,  the  young  gentlemen 
followed,  and  stood  on  each  side  of  his  coach-door.  The 
guard  trumpeter  blew  a  shrill  blast,  the  negroes  shouted, 
"  Huzzay,  and  God  sabe  de  King,"  as  Mr.  Braddock 
most  graciously  took  leave  of  his  hospitable  entertainers, 
and  rolled  away  on  his  road  to  headquarters. 

As  the  boys  went  up  the  steps,  there  was  the  Colonel 
once  more  taking  leave  of  their  mother.  No  doubt  she 
had  been  once  more  recommending  George  to  his  name- 
sake's care;  for  Colonel  Washington  said:  "  With  my 
life.  You  may  depend  on  me,"  as  the  lads  returned  to 
their  mother  and  the  few  guests  still  remaining  in  the 
porch.  The  Colonel  was  booted  and  ready  to  depart. 
"  Farewell,  my  dear  Harry,"  he  said.  "  With  you, 
George,  'tis  no  adieu.  We  shall  meet  in  three  days  at 
the  camp." 

Both  the  young  men  were  going  to  danger,  perhaps  to 
death.  Colonel  Washington  was  taking  leave  of  her, 
and  she  was  to  see  him  no  more  before  the  campaign. 
No  wonder  the  widow  was  very  much  moved. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  129 

George  Warrington  watched  his  mother's  emotion 
and  interpreted  it  with  a  pang  of  mahgnant  scorn. 
*'  Stay  yet  a  moment,  and  console  om*  mamma,"  he  said 
^»with  a  steady  countenance,  "  only  the  time  to  get  our- 
selves booted,  and  my  brother  and  I  will  ride  with  you 
a  little  way,  George."  George  Warrington  had  already 
ordered  his  horses.  The  three  young  men  were  speedily 
under  way,  their  negro  grooms  behind  them,  and  Mrs. 
JNIountain,  who  knew  she  had  made  mischief  between 
them  and  trembled  for  the  result,  felt  a  vast  relief  that 
ISIr.  Washington  was  gone  without  a  quarrel  with  the 
brothers,  without,  at  any  rate,  an  open  declaration  of 
love  to  their  mother. 

No  man  could  be  more  courteous  in  demeanour  than 
George  Warrington  to  his  neighbour  and  namesake,  the 
Colonel.  The  latter  was  pleased  and  surprised  at  his 
young  friend's  altered  behaviour.  The  community  of 
danger,  the  necessity  of  future  fellowship,  the  softening 
influence  of  the  long  friendship  which  bound  him  to 
the  Esmond  family,  the  tender  adieux  which  had  just 
passed  between  him  and  the  mistress  of  Castlewood,  in- 
clined the  Colonel  to  forget  the  unpleasantness  of  the 
past  days,  and  made  him  more  than  usually  friendly 
with  his  young  companion.  George  was  quite  gay  and 
easy:  it  was  Harry  who  was  melancholy  now:  he  rode 
silently  and  wistfully  by  his  brother,  keeping  away  from 
Colonel  Washington,  to  whose  side  he  used  always  to 
press  eagerly  before.  If  the  honest  Colonel  remarked 
his  young  friend's  conduct,  no  dou])t  lie  attributed  it  to 
Harry's  known  affection  for  his  brother,  and  his  natural 
anxiety  to  be  with  George  now  the  day  of  their  parting 
was  so  near. 

They  talked  further  about  the  war,  and  the  probable 


130  THE  VIRGINIANS 

end  of  the  campaign:  none  of  the  three  doubted  its 
successful  termination.  Two  thousand  veteran  British 
troops  with  their  commander  must  get  the  better  of  any 
force  the  French  could  bring  against  them,  if  only  they 
moved  in  decent  time.  The  ardent  young  Virginian 
soldier  had  an  immense  respect  for  the  experienced 
valour  and  tactics  of  the  regular  troops.  King  George 
II.  had  no  more  loyal  subject  than  Mr.  Braddock's  new 
aide-de-camp. 

So  the  party  rode  amicably  together,  until  they 
reached  a  certain  rude  log-house,  called  Benson's,  of 
which  the  proprietor,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
day  and  country,  did  not  disdain  to  accept  money  from 
his  guests  in  return  for  hospitalities  provided.  There 
was  a  recruiting  station  here,  and  some  officers  and  men 
of  Halkett's  regiment  assembled,  and  here  Colonel 
Washington  supposed  that  his  young  friends  would 
take  leave  of  him. 

Whilst  their  horses  were  baited,  they  entered  the 
public  room,  and  found  a  rough  meal  prepared  for  such 
as  were  disposed  to  partake.  George  Warrington  en- 
tered the  place  with  a  particularly  gay  and  lively  air, 
whereas  poor  Harry's  face  was  quite  white  and  wobe- 
gone. 

"  One  would  think.  Squire  Harry,  'twas  you  who  was 
going  to  leave  home  and  fight  the  French  and  Indians, 
and  not  Mr.  George,"  says  Benson. 

"  I  may  be  alarmed  about  danger  to  my  brother," 
said  Harry,  "  though  I  might  bear  my  own  share  pretty 
well.    'Tis  not  my  fault  that  I  stay  at  home." 

"  No,  indeed,  brother,"  cries  George. 

"  Harry  Warrington's  courage  does  not  need  any 
proof!"  cries  Mr.  Washington. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  131 

"  You  do  the  family  honour  by  speaking  so  well  of 
us,  Colonel,"  saj^s  JNIr.  George,  with  a  low  bow.  "  I 
dare  say  we  can  hold  our  own,  if  need  be." 
^  Whilst  his  friend  was  vaunting  his  courage,  Harry 
looked,  to  say  the  truth,  by  no  means  courageous.  As 
his  eyes  met  his  brother's,  he  read  in  George's  look  an 
announcement  which  alarmed  the  fond  faithful  lad. 
"You  are  not  going  to  do  it  now?"  he  whispered  his 
brother. 

"  Yes,  now,"  says  Mr.  George,  very  steadily. 

"  For  God's  sake  let  me  have  the  turn.  You  are 
going  on  the  campaign,  you  ought  not  to  have  every- 
thing— and  there  may  be  an  explanation,  George.  We 
may  be  all  wrong." 

"  Psha,  how  can  we?  It  must  be  done  now — don't 
be  alarmed.  No  names  shall  be  mentioned — I  shall 
easily  find  a  subject." 

A  couple  of  Halkett's  officers,  whom  our  young  gen- 
tlemen knew,  were  sitting  under  the  porch,  with  the 
Virginian  toddy-bowl  before  them. 

"  What  are  you  conspiring,  gentlemen?  "  cried  one  of 
them.     "  Is  it  a  drink?  " 

By  the  tone  of  their  voices  and  their  flushed  cheeks, 
it  was  clear  the  gentlemen  had  already  been  engaged 
in  drinking  that  morning. 

"  Tlie  very  thing,  sir,"  George  said  gaily.  "  Fresh 
glasses,  Mr.  Benson!  What,  no  glasses?  Then  we 
must  have  at  the  bowl." 

"  Many  a  good  man  has  drunk  from  it,"  says  Mr. 
Benson;  and  the  lads,  one  after  another,  and  bowing 
first  to  their  military  acquaintance,  touched  the  bowl  with 
their  lips.  The  liquor  did  not  seem  to  be  much  dimin- 
ished for  the  boys'  drinking,  thougli  George  especially 


132  THE  VIRGINIANS 

gave  himself  a  toper's  airs,  and  protested  it  was  delicious 
after  their  ride.  He  called  out  to  Colonel  Washington, 
who  was  at  the  porch,  to  join  his  friends,  and  drink. 

The  lad's  tone  was  offensive,  and  resembled  the  man- 
ner lately  adopted  by  him,  and  which  had  so  much  chafed 
Mr,  Washington.  He  bowed,  and  said  he  was  not 
thirsty. 

"  Nay,  the  liquor  is  paid  for,"  says  George;  "  never 
fear,  Colonel." 

"  I  said  I  was  not  thirsty.  I  did  not  say  the  liquor 
was  not  paid  for,"  said  the  young  Colonel,  drumming 
with  his  foot. 

"  When  the  King's  health  is  proposed,  an  officer  can 
hardly  say  no.  I  drink  the  health  of  his  Majesty,  gentle- 
men," cried  George.  "  Colonel  Washington  can  drink 
it  or  leave  it.    The  King!  " 

This  was  a  point  of  military  honour.  The  two  British 
officers  of  Halkett's,  Captain  Grace  and  Mr.  Waring, 
both  drank  "  The  King."  Harry  Warrington  drank 
"  The  King."  Colonel  Washington,  with  glaring  eyes, 
gulped,  too,  a  slight  draught  from  the  bowl. 

Then  Captain  Grace  proposed  "  The  Duke  and  the 
Army,"  which  toast  there  was  likewise  no  gainsaying. 
Colonel  Washington  had  to  swallow  "  The  Duke  and 
the  Army." 

"  You  don't  seem  to  stomach  the  toast,  Colonel,"  said 
George. 

"  I  tell  you  again,  I  don't  want  to  drink,"  replied  the 
Colonel.  "  It  seems  to  me  the  Duke  and  the  Army 
would  be  served  all  the  better  if  their  healths  were  not 
drunk  so  often." 

"  You  are  not  up  to  the  ways  of  regular  troops  as  yet," 
said  Captain  Grace,  with  rather  a  thick  voice. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  133 

"  Maybe  not,  sir." 

"  A  British  officer,"  continues  Captain  Grace,  with 
great  energy  but  doubtful  articulation,  "  never  neglects 
,a  toast  of  that  sort,  nor  any  other  duty.  A  man  who 
refuses  to  drink  the  health  of  the  Duke— hang  me,  such 
a  man  should  be  tried  by  a  court-martial! " 

"  What  means  this  language  to  me?  You  are  drunk, 
sir!"  roared  Colonel  Washington,  jumping  up,  and 
striking  the  table  with  his  fist. 

"  A  cursed  provincial  oflftcer  say  I'm  drunk!  "  shrieks 
out  Captain  Grace.    "  Waring,  do  you  hear  that? " 

"  I  heard  it,  sir!  "  cried  George  Warrington.  "  We 
all  heard  it.  He  entered  at  my  invitation— the  liquor 
called  for  was  mine:  the  table  was  mine— and  I  am 
shocked  to  hear  such  monstrous  language  used  at  it  as 
Colonel  Washington  has  just  employed  towards  my 
esteemed  guest.  Captain  Waring." 

"  Confound  your  impudence,  you  infernal  young 
jackanapes!  "  bellowed  out  Colonel  Washington.  "  You 
dare  to  insult  me  before  British  officers,  and  find  fault 
with  my  language?  For  months  past,  I  have  borne  with 
such  impudence  from  you,  that  if  I  had  not  loved  your 
mother— yes,  sir,  and  your  good  grandfather  and  your 
brother— I  would— I  would  —  "  Here  his  words  failed 
him,  and  the  irate  Colonel,  with  gla-ring  eyes  and  purple 
face,  and  every  limb  quivering  with  wrath,  stood  for  a 
moment  speechless  before  his  young  enemy. 

"  You  would  what,  sir?  "  says  George,  very  quietly, 
"  if  you  did  not  love  my  grandfather,  and  my  brother, 
and  my  mother?  You  are  making  her  petticoat  a  plea 
for  some  conduct  of  yours— you  would  do  what,  sir, 
may  I  ask  again? " 

"  I  would  put  you  across  my  knee  and  whip  you,  you 


134  THE  VIRGINIANS 

snarling  little  puppy,  that's  what  I  would  do!  "  cried  the 
Colonel,  who  had  found  breath  by  this  time,  and  vented 
another  explosion  of  fury. 

"  Because  you  have  known  us  all  our  lives,  and  made 
our  house  your  own,  that  is  no  reason  you  should  insult 
either  of  us!  "  here  cried  Harry,  starting  up.  "  What 
you  have  said,  George  Washington,  is  an  insult  to  me 
and  my  brother  alike.    You  will  ask  our  pardon,  sir!  " 

"Pardon!" 

"  Or  give  us  the  reparation  that  is  due  to  gentlemen," 
continues  Harry. 

The  stout  Colonel's  heart  smote  him  to  think  that  he 
should  be  at  mortal  quarrel  or  called  upon  to  shed  the 
blood  of  one  of  the  lads  he  loved.  As  Harry  stood  facing 
him,  with  his  fair  hair,  flushing  cheeks,  and  quivering 
voice,  an  immense  tenderness  and  kindness  filled  the 
bosom  of  the  elder  man.  "  I  — I  am  bewildered,"  he 
said.  "  My  words,  perhaps,  were  very  hasty.  What 
has  been  the  meaning  of  George's  behaviour  to  me  for 
months  back?    Only  tell  me,  and,  perhaps—" 

The  evil  spirit  was  awake  and  victorious  in  young 
George  Warrington:  his  black  eyes  shot  out  scorn  and 
hatred  at  the  simple  and  guileless  gentleman  before 
him.  "  You  are  shirking  from  the  question,  sir,  as  you 
did  from  the  toast  just  now,"  he  said.  "  I  am  not  a  boy 
to  sufl'er  under  your  arrogance.  You  have  publicly  in- 
sulted me  in  a  public  place,  and  I  demand  a  reparation." 

"In  heaven's  name,  be  it!"  says  Mr.  Washington, 
with  the  deepest  grief  in  his  face. 

"  And  you  have  insulted  me,"  continues  Captain 
Grace,  reeling  towards  him.  "What  was  it  he  said? 
Confound  the  militia  captain — colonel,  what  is  he? 
You've  insulted  me !    Oh,  Waring !  to  think  I  should  be 


THE  VIRGINIANS  135 

insulted  by  a  captain  of  militia!  "  And  tears  bedewed 
the  noble  Captain's  cheek  as  this  harrowing  thought 
crossed  his  mind. 

"  I  insult  you,  you  hog!"  the  Colonel  again  yelled 
out,  for  he  was  little  aflFected  by  humour,  and  had  no 
disposition  to  laugh  as  the  others  had  at  the  scene. 
And,  behold,  at  this  minute  a  fourth  adversary  was 
upon  him. 

"Great  Powers,  sir!"  said  Captain  Waring,  "are 
tliree  affairs  not  enough  for  you,  and  must  I  come  into 
the  quarrel,  too?  You  have  a  quarrel  with  these  two 
young  gentlemen." 

"  Hasty  words,  sir! "  cries  poor  Harry  once  more. 

"  Hasty  words,  sir!  "  cries  Captain  Waring.  "  A  gen- 
tleman tells  another  gentleman  that  he  will  put  him 
across  his  knees  and  whip  him,  and  you  call  those  hasty 
words?  Let  me  tell  you  if  any  man  were  to  say  to  me, 
'  Charles  Waring,'  or  '  Captain  Waring,  I'll  put  you 
across  my  knees  and  whip  you,'  I'd  say,  '  I'll  drive  my 
cheese-toaster  through  his  body,'  if  he  were  as  big  as 
Goliath,  I  would.  That's  one  affair  with  young  Mr. 
George  Warrington.  Mr.  Harry,  of  course,  as  a  young 
man  of  spirit,  will  stand  by  his  brother.  That's  two. 
Between  Grace  and  the  Colonel  apology  is  impossible. 
And,  now — run  me  through  the  body! — you  call  an 
officer  of  my  regiment— of  Halkett's,  sir!— a  hog  before 
my  face!  Great  Heavens,  sir!  Mr.  Washington!  are 
you  all  like  this  in  Virginia?  Excuse  me,  I  would  use 
no  offensive  personality,  as,  by  George!  I  will  suffer 
none  from  any  man!  but,  by  gad,  Colonel!  give  me 
leave  to  tell  you  that  you  are  the  most  quarrelsome  man 
I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  Call  a  disabled  officer  of  my  i-eg- 
iment — for  he  is  disabled,  ain't  you,  Grace?  — call  him 


136  THE  VIRGINIANS 

a  hog  before  me!  You  withdraw  it,  sir— you  withdraw 
it?" 

"  Is  this  some  infernal  conspiracy  in  which  you  are  all 
leagued  against  me?  "  shouted  the  Colonel.  "  It  would 
seem  as  if  I  was  drunk,  and  not  you,  as  you  all  are. 
I  withdraw  nothing.  I  apologize  for  nothing.  By 
heavens !  I  will  meet  one  or  half-a-dozen  of  you  in  your 
turn,  young  or  old,  drunk  or  sober." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  myself  called  more  names," 
cried  Mr.  George  Warrington.  "  This  affair  can  pro- 
ceed, sir,  without  any  further  insult  on  your  part.  When 
will  it  please  you  to  give  me  the  meeting?  " 

"  The  sooner  the  better,  sir!  "  said  the  Colonel,  fuming 
with  rage. 

"  The  sooner  the  better,"  hiccupped  Captain  Grace, 
with  many  oaths  needless  to  print—  (in  those  days,  oaths 
were  the  customary  garnish  of  all  gentlemen's  conver- 
sation) —  and  he  rose  staggering  from  his  seat,  and  reeled 
towards  his  sword,  which  he  had  laid  by  the  door,  and  fell 
as  he  reached  the  weapon.  "  The  sooner  the  better!  "  the 
poor  tipsy  wretch  again  cried  out  from  the  ground,  wav- 
ing his  weapon  and  knocking  his  own  hat  over  his  eyes. 

"  At  any  rate,  this  gentleman's  business  will  keep  cool 
till  to-morrow,"  the  Militia  Colonel  said,  turning  to  the 
other  King's  officer.  "  You  will  hardly  bring  your  man 
out  to-day,  Captain  Waring?  " 

"  I  confess  that  neither  his  hand  nor  mine  are  partic- 
ularly steady." 

"Mine  is!"  cried  Mr.  Warrington,  glaring  at  his 
enemy. 

His  comrade  of  former  days  was  as  hot  and  as  savage. 
"  Be  it  so— with  what  weapon,  sir? "  Washington  said 
sternly. 


»-»■». 


THE  VIRGINIANS  137 

"  Not  with  small  swords,  Colonel.  We  can  beat  you 
with  them.  You  know  that  from  our  old  bouts.  Pistols 
had  better  be  the  word." 

"  As  you  please,  George  Warrington— and  God  for- 
give you,  George !  God  pardon  you,  Harry !  for  bring- 
ing me  into  this  quarrel,"  said  the  Colonel,  with  a  face 
full  of  sadness  and  gloom. 

Harry  hung  his  head,  but  George  continued  with  per- 
fect calmness :  "  I,  sir?  It  was  not  I  who  called  names, 
who  talked  of  a  cane,  who  insulted  a  gentleman  in  a 
public  place  before  gentlemen  of  the  army.  It  is  not 
the  first  time  you  have  chosen  to  take  me  for  a  negro, 
and  talked  of  the  whip  for  me." 

The  Colonel  started  back,  turning  very  red,  and  as  if 
struck  by  a  sudden  remembrance. 

"  Great  heavens,  George!  is  it  that  boyish  quarrel  you 
are  still  recalling? " 

"  Who  made  you  the  overseer  of  Castlewood?  "  said 
the  boy,  grinding  his  teeth.  "  I  am  not  your  slave, 
George  Washington,  and  I  never  will  be.  I  hated  you 
then,  and  I  hate  you  now.  And  you  have  insulted  me, 
and  I  am  a  gentleman,  and  so  are  you.  Is  that  not 
enough? " 

"  Too  much,  only  too  much,"  said  the  Colonel,  with  a 
genuine  grief  on  his  face,  and  at  his  heart.  "  Do  you 
bear  malice  too,  Harry?  I  had  not  thought  this  of 
thee!" 

"  I  stand  by  my  brother,"  said  Harry,  turning  away 
from  the  Colonel's  look,  and  grasping  George's  liand. 
The  sadness  on  their  adversary's  face  did  not  depart. 
"  Heaven  be  good  to  us!  'Tis  all  clear  now,"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself.  "  The  time  to  write  a  few  letters,  and 
I  am  at  your  service,  Mr.  Warrington,"  he  said. 


138  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  You  have  j^our  own  pistols  at  your  saddle.  I  did 
not  ride  out  with  any ;  but  will  send  Sady  back  for  mine. 
That  will  give  you  time  enough,  Colonel  Washington?  " 

"  Plenty  of  time,  sir."  And  each  gentleman  made  the 
other  a  low  bow,  and,  putting  his  arm  in  his  brother's, 
George  walked  away.  The  Virginian  officer  looked  to- 
wards the  two  unlucky  captains,  who  were  by  this  time 
helpless  with  liquor.  Captain  Benson,  the  master  of  the 
tavern,  was  propping  the  hat  of  one  of  them  over  his 
head. 

"  It  is  not  altogether  their  fault.  Colonel,"  said  my 
landlord,  with  a  grim  look  of  humour.  "  Jack  Firebrace 
and  Tom  Humbold  of  Spotsylvania  was  here  this  morn- 
ing, chanting  horses  with  'em.  And  Jack  and  Tom  got 
'em  to  plaj"  cards;  and  they  didn't  win— the  British  Cap- 
tains didn't.  And  Jack  and  Tom  challenged  them  to 
drink  for  the  honour  of  Old  England,  and  they  didn't 
win  at  that  game  neither,  much.  They  are  kind,  free- 
handed fellows  when  they  are  sober,  but  they  are  a  pretty 
pair  of  fools— they  are." 

"  Captain  Benson,  you  are  an  old  frontier  man,  and 
an  officer  of  ours,  before  you  turned  farmer  and  taverner. 
You  will  help  me  in  this  matter  with  yonder  young  gen- 
tlemen? "  said  the  Colonel. 

"  I'll  stand  by  and  see  fair  play.  Colonel.  I  won't 
have  no  hand  in  it,  beyond  seeing  fair  play.  Madam 
Esmond  has  helped  me  many  a  time,  tended  my  poor 
wife  in  her  lying-in,  and  doctored  our  Betty  in  the  fever. 
You  ain't  a  goin'  to  be  very  hard  with  them  poor  boys? 
Though  I  seen  'em  both  shoot :.  the  fair  one  hunts  well, 
as  you  know,  but  the  old  one's  a  wonder  at  an  ace  of 
spades." 

"  Will  you  be  pleased  to  send  my  man  with  my  valise, 


THE  VIRGINIANS  139 

Captain,  into  any  private  room  which  you  can  spare  me? 
I  must  write  a  few  letters  before  this  business  comes  on. 
God  grant  it  were  well  over!  "  And  the  Captain  led  the 
.Colonel  into  almost  the  only  other  room  of  his  house, 
calling,  with  many  oaths,  to  a  pack  of  negro  servants  to 
disperse  thence,  who  were  chattering  loudly  among  one 
another,  and  no  doubt  discussing  the  quarrel  which  had 
just  taken  place.  Edwin,  the  Colonel's  man,  returned 
with  his  master's  portmanteau,  and,  as  he  looked  from 
the  window,  he  saw  Sady,  George  Warrington's  negro, 
galloping  away  upon  his  errand,  doubtless,  and  in  the 
direction  of  Castlewood.  The  Colonel,  young  and  nat- 
urallj'  hot-headed,  but  the  most  courteous  and  scrupulous 
of  men,  and  ever  keeping  his  strong  passions  under 
guard,  could  not  but  think  with  amazement  of  the  posi- 
tion in  which  he  found  himself,  and  of  the  three,  perhaps 
four  enemies,  who  appeared  suddenly  before  him,  men- 
acing his  life.  How  had  this  strange  series  of  quarrels 
been  brought  about?  He  had  ridden  away  a  few  hours 
since  from  Castlewood,  with  his  young  companions,  and 
to  all  seeming  they  were  perfect  friends.  A  shower  of 
rain  sends  them  into  a  tavern,  where  there  are  a  couple 
of  recruiting  officers,  and  they  are  not  seated  for  half 
an  hour,  at  a  social  table,  but  he  has  quarrelled  with  the 
whole  company,  called  this  one  names,  agreed  to  meet 
another  in  combat,  and  threatened  chastisement  to  a 
third,  the  son  of  his  most  intimate  friend ! 


CHAPTER   XI 


WHEREIN   THE   TWO   GEORGES    PREPARE   FOR   BLOOD 


HE  Virginian  Colonel  remain- 
ed in  one  chamber  of  the  tav- 
ern, occupied  with  gloomy 
preparations  for  the  ensuing 
meeting:  his  adversary  in 
the  other  room  thought  fit  to 
make  his  testamentary  dis- 
positions, too,  and  dictated, 
by  his  obedient  brother  and 
secretary,  a  grandiloquent 
letter  to  his  mother,  of 
whom,  and  by  that  writing, 
he  took  a  solemn  farewell. 
She  would  hardly,  he  sup- 
posed, pursue  the  scheme 
which  she  had  in  view  (a 
peculiar  satirical  emphasis  was  laid  upon  the  scheme 
which  she  had  in  view) ,  after  the  event  of  that  morning, 
should  he  fall,  as,  probably,  would  be  the  case. 

"My  dear,  dear  George,  don't  say  that!"  cried  the 
affrighted  secretary. 

"  As  probably  will  be  the  case,"  George  persisted  with 
great  majesty.  "  You  know  what  a  good  shot  Colonel 
George  is,  Harry.  I,  myself,  am  pretty  fair  at  a  mark, 
and  'tis  probable  that  one  or  both  of  us  will  drop. — '  I 
scarcely  suppose  you  will  carry  out  the  intentions  you 

110 


George's  Secretary 
at  War 


THE  VIRGINIANS  141 

have  at  present  in  view.'  "  This  was  uttered  in  a  tone  of 
still  greater  bitterness  than  George  had  used  even  in  the 
previous  phrase.    Harry  wept  as  he  took  it  down. 

"You  see  I  say  nothing;  Madam  Esmond's  name 
does  not  even  appear  in  the  quarrel.  Do  you  not  remem- 
ber, in  our  grandfather's  life  of  himself,  how  he  says 
that  Lord  Castlewood  fought  Lord  Mohun  on  a  pretext 
of  a  quarrel  at  cards  ?  and  never  so  much  as  hinted  at  the 
lady's  name,  who  was  the  real  cause  of  the  duel  ?  I  took 
my  hint,  I  confess,  from  that,  Harry.  Our  mother  is 
not  compromised  in  the—  Why,  child,  what  have  you 
been  writing,  and  who  taught  thee  to  spell?"  Harry 
had  written  the  last  words  "  in  view,"  in  vew,  and  a  great 
blot  of  salt  water  from  his  honest,  boyish  eyes  may  have 
obliterated  some  other  bad  spelling. 

"  I  can't  think  about  the  spelling  now,  Georgy,"  whim- 
pered George's  clerk.  "  I'm  too  miserable  for  that.  I 
begin  to  think,  perhaps,  it's  all  nonsense,  perhaps  Colo- 
nel George  never — " 

"  Never  meant  to  take  possession  of  Castlewood;  never 
gave  himself  airs,  and  patronized  us  there;  never  ad- 
vised my  mother  to  have  me  flogged,  never  intended  to 
marry  her;  never  insulted  me,  and  was  insulted  before 
the  King's  officers;  never  wrote  to  his  brother  to  say 
we  should  be  the  better  for  his  parental  authority?  The 
paper  is  there,"  cried  the  young  man,  slapping  his  breast- 
pocket, "  and  if  anything  happens  to  me,  Harry  War- 
rington, you  will  find  it  on  my  corse!" 

"  Write  yourself,  Georgy,  I  cant  write,"  says  Harry, 
digging  his  fists  into  his  eyes,  and  smearing  over  the 
whole  composition,  bad  spelling  and  all,  with  his  elbows. 

On  this,  George,  taking  another  sheet  of  paper,  sat 
down  at  his  brother's  place,  and  produced  a  composition 


142  THE  VIRGINIANS 

in  which  he  introduced  the  longest  words,  the  grandest 
Latin  quotations,  and  the  most  profound  satire  of  which 
the  j'outhful  scribe  was  master.  He  desired  that  his 
negro  bo}^  Sady,  should  be  set  free;  that  his  "  Horace," 
a  choice  of  his  books,  and,  if  possible,  a  suitable  provision 
should  be  made  for  his  affectionate  tutor,  Mr.  Dempster; 
that  his  silver  fruit-knife,  his  music-books,  and  harpsi- 
chord, should  be  given  to  little  Fanny  Mountain;  and 
that  his  brother  should  take  a  lock  of  his  hair,  and  wear 
it  in  memory  of  his  ever  fond  and  faithfully  attached 
George.  And  he  sealed  the  document  with  the  seal  of 
arms  that  his  grandfather  had  worn. 

"  The  watch,  of  course,  will  be  yours,"  said  George, 
taking  out  his  grandfather's  gold  watch,  and  looking  at 
it.  "  Why,  two  hours  and  a  half  are  gone!  'Tis  time 
that  Sady  should  be  back  with  the  pistols.  Take  the 
watch,  Harry  dear." 

"  It's  no  good!  "  cried  out  Harry,  flinging  his  arms 
round  his  brother.    "  If  he  fights  you,  I'll  fight  him,  too. 

If  he  kills  my  Georgy, him,  he  shall  have  a  shot  at 

me!  "  and  the  poor  lad  uttered  more  than  one  of  those 
expressions,  which  are  said  peculiarly  to  affect  recording 
angels,  who  have  to  take  them  down  at  celestial  chan- 
ceries. 

Meanwhile,  General  Braddock's  new  aide-de-camp 
had  written  five  letters  in  his  large  resolute  hand,  and 
sealed  them  with  his  seal.  One  was  to  his  mother,  at 
Mount  Vernon;  one  to  his  brother;  one  was  addressed 
M.  C.  only;  and  one  to  his  Excellency,  Major-General 
Braddock.  "  And  one,  young  gentlemen,  is  for  your 
mother.  Madam  Esmond,"  said  the  boys'  informant. 

Again  the  recording  angel  had  to  fly  off  with  a  violent 
expression,  which  parted  from  the  lips  of  George  War- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  143 

rington.  The  chancery  previously  mentioned  was 
crowded  with  such  cases,  and  the  messengers  must  have 
been  for  ever  on  the  wing.  But  I  fear  for  young 
George  and  his  oath  there  was  no  excuse ;  for  it  was  an 
execration  uttered  from  a  heart  full  of  hatred,  and  rage, 
and  jealousy. 

It  was  the  landlord  of  the  tavern  who  communicated 
these  facts  to  the  young  men.  The  Captain  had  put  on 
his  old  militia  uniform  to  do  honour  to  the  occasion,  and 
informed  the  boys  that  the  "  Colonel  was  walking  up  and 
down  the  garden  a  waiting  for  'em,  and  that  the  Reg'lars 
was  a'most  sober,  too,  by  this  time." 

A  plot  of  ground  near  the  Captain's  log-house  had 
been  enclosed  with  shingles,  and  cleared  for  a  kitchen- 
garden;  there  indeed  paced  Colonel  Washington,  his 
hands  behind  his  back,  his  head  bowed  down,  a  grave 
sorrow  on  his  handsome  face.  The  negro  servants  were 
crowded  at  the  palings,  and  looking  over.  The  officers 
under  the  porch  had  wakened  up  also,  as  their  host  re- 
marked. Captain  Waring  was  walking,  almost  steadily, 
under  the  balcony  formed  by  the  sloping  porch  and  roof 
of  the  wooden  house;  and  Captain  Grace  was  lolling 
over  the  railing,  with  eyes  which  stared  very  much, 
though  perhaps  they  did  not  see  very  clearly.  Benson's 
was  a  famous  rendezvous  for  cock-fights,  horse-matches, 
boxing,  and  wrestling-matches,  such  as  brought  the  Vir- 
ginian country-folks  together.  There  had  been  many 
brawls  at  Benson's,  and  men  who  came  thither  sound  and 
sober  had  gone  thence  with  ribs  broken  and  eyes  gouged 
out.  And  squires,  and  farmers,  and  negroes,  all  partici- 
pated in  the  sport. 

There,  then,  stalked  the  tall  young  Colonel,  plunged 
in  dismal  meditation.     There  was  no  way  out  of  his 


144  THE  VIRGINIANS 

scrape,  but  the  usual  cruel  one,  which  the  laws  of  honour 
and  the  practice  of  the  country  ordered.  Goaded  into 
fur}^  by  the  impertinence  of  a  boy,  he  had  used  insulting 
words.  The  young  man  had  asked  for  reparation.  He 
was  shocked  to  think  that  George  Warrington's  jeal- 
ousy and  revenge  should  have  rankled  in  the  young  fel- 
low so  long:  but  the  wrong  had  been  the  Colonel's,  and 
he  was  bound  to  pay  the  forfeit. 

A  great  hallooing  and  shouting,  such  as  negroes  use, 
who  love  noise  at  all  times,  and  especially  delight  to  yell 
and  scream  when  galloping  on  horseback,  was  now  heard 
at  a  distance,  and  all  the  heads,  woolly  and  powdered, 
were  turned  in  the  direction  of  this  outcry.  It  came  from 
the  road  over  which  our  travellers  had  themselves  passed 
three  hours  before,  and  presently  the  clattering  of  a 
horse's  hoofs  was  heard,  and  now  Mr.  Sady  made  his 
appearance  on  his  foaming  horse,  and  actually  fired  a 
pistol  off  in  the  midst  of  a  prodigious  uproar  from  his 
woolly  brethren;  then  he  fired  another  pistol  off:  to 
which  noise  Sady's  horse,  which  had  carried  Harry  War- 
rington on  many  a  hunt,  was  perfectly  accustomed.  And 
now  he  was  in  the  court-yard,  surrounded  by  a  score  of 
his  bawling  comrades,  and  was  descending  amidst  flut- 
tering fowls  and  turkeys,  kicking  horses  and  shrieking 
frantic  pigs;  and  brother  negroes  crowded  round  him, 
to  whom  he  instantly  began  to  talk  and  chatter. 

*'  Sadj^  sir,  come  here!  "  roars  out  Master  Harry. 

"Sady,  come  here,  confound  you!"  shouts  Master 
George.  (Again  the  recording  angel  is  in  requisition, 
and  has  to  be  off  on  one  of  his  endless  errands  to  the  reg- 
ister office.)  "  Come  directly,  Mas'r,"  says  Sady,  and 
resumes  his  conversation  with  his  woolly  brethren.  He 
grins.    He  takes  the  pistols  out  of  the  holster.    He  snaps 


THE  VIRGINIANS  145 

the  locks.  He  points  them  at  a  grunter,  which  plunges 
through  the  farm-yard.  He  points  down  the  road,  over 
which  he  has  just  galloped,  and  towards  which  the  woolly 
heads  again  turn.  He  says  again,  "  Comin',  Mas'r. 
Everybody  a-comin'."  And  now,  the  gallop  of  other 
horses  is  heard.  And  who  is  yonder?  Little  Mr.  Demp- 
ster, spurring  and  digging  into  his  pony ;  and  that  lady 
in  a  riding-habit  on  JNIadam  Esmond's  little  horse — can 
it  be  IMadam  Esmond?  No.  It  is  too  stout.  As  I  live  it 
is  Mrs.  Mountain  on  Madam's  grey! 

"O  Lor'!  O  Golly!  Hoop!  Here  dey  come!  Hur- 
ray! "  A  chorus  of  negroes  rises  up.  "  Here  dey  are!  " 
Dr.  Dempster  and  Mrs.  JNIountain  have  clattered  into 
the  yard,  have  jumped  from  their  horses,  have  elbowed 
through  the  negroes,  have  rushed  into  the  house,  have 
run  through  it  and  across  the  porch,  where  the  British 
officers  are  sitting  in  muzzy  astonishment;  have  run 
down  the  stairs  to  the  garden  where  George  and  Harry 
are  walking,  their  tall  enemy  stalking  opposite  to  them ; 
and  almost  ere  George  Warrington  has  had  time  sternly 
to  say,  "  What  do  you  do  here.  Madam?  "  Mrs.  Moun- 
tain has  flung  her  arms  round  his  neck  and  cries:  "  Oh, 
George,  my  darling!  It's  a  mistake!  It's  a  mistake,  and 
is  all  my  fault!  " 

"  What's  a  mistake? "  asks  George,  majestically  sep- 
arating himself  from  the  embrace. 

*'  What  is  it,  Mounty?  "  cries  Harry,  all  of  a  tremble. 

"  That  paper  I  took  out  of  his  portfolio,  that  paper 
I  picked  up,  children;  where  the  Colonel  says  he  is  going 
to  marry  a  widow  with  two  children.  Who  should  it  be 
but  you,  children,  and  who  should  it  be  but  your 
mother?  " 

"Well?" 


146  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  Well,  it's— it's  not  your  mother.  It's  that  little 
widow  Curtis  whom  the  Colonel  is  going  to  marry.  He'd 
always  take  a  rich  one ;  I  knew  he  would.  It's  not  Mrs. 
Rachel  Warrington.  He  told  Madam  so  to-day,  just  be- 
fore he  was  going  away,  and  that  the  marriage  was  to 
come  off  after  the  campaign.  And— and  your  mother  is 
furious,  boys.  And  when  Sady  came  for  the  pistols,  and 
told  the  whole  house  how  you  were  going  to  fight,  I  told 
him  to  fire  the  pistols  off;  and  I  galloped  after  him,  and 
I've  nearly  broken  my  poor  old  bones  in  coming  to  you." 

"  I  have  a  mind  to  break  Mr.  Sady's,"  growled 
George.  "  I  specially  enjoined  the  villain  not  to  say 
a  word." 

"  Thank  God  he  did,  brother,"  said  poor  Harry. 
"  Thank  God  he  did !  " 

"  What  will  Mr.  Washington  and  those  gentlemen 
think  of  my  servant  telling  my  mother  at  home  that  I 
was  going  to  fight  a  duel?  "  asks  Mr.  George,  still  in 
wrath. 

"  You  have  shown  your  proofs  before,  George,"  says 
Harry,  respectfully.  "  And,  thank  heaven,  you  are  not 
going  to  fight  our  old  friend — our  grandfather's  old 
friend.  For  it  was  a  mistake:  and  there  is  no  quarrel 
now,  dear,  is  there?  You  were  unkind  to  him  under  a 
wrong  impression." 

"  I  certainly  acted  under  a  wrong  impression,"  owns 
George,  "  but-" 

"George!  George  Washington!"  Harry  here  cries 
out,  springing  over  the  cabbage-garden  towards  the 
bowling-green,  where  the  Colonel  w^as  stalking,  and 
though  we  cannot  hear  him,  we  see  him,  with  both  his 
hands  out,  and  with  the  eagerness  of  youth,  and  with 
a  hundred  blunders,  and  with  love  and  affection  thrill- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  147 

ing  in  his  honest  voice,  we  imagine  the  lad  telling  his 
tale  to  his  friend. 

There  was  a  custom  in  those  days  which  has  disap- 

^  peared  from  our  manners  now,  but  which  then  lingered. 

"^When  Harry  had  finished  his  artless  story,  his  friend 

the  Colonel  took  him  fairl}^  to  his  arms,  and  held  him  to 

his  heart:  and  his  voice  faltered  as  he  said,  "  Thank  God, 

thank  God  for  this!  " 

"  Oh,  George,"  said  Harry,  who  felt  now  how  he  loved 
his  friend  with  all  his  heart,  "  how  I  wish  I  was  going 
with  you  on  the  campaign ! "  The  other  pressed  both 
the  boy's  hands,  in  a  grasp  of  friendship,  which,  each 
knew,  never  would  slacken. 

Then  the  Colonel  advanced,  gravely  holding  out  his 
hand  to  Harry's  eldest  brother.  Perhaps  Harry  won- 
dered that  the  two  did  not  embrace  as  he  and  the  Colonel 
had  just  done.  But,  though  hands  were  joined,  the  salu- 
tation was  only  formal  and  stern  on  both  sides. 

"  I  find  I  have  done  you  a  wrong,  Colonel  Washing- 
ton," George  said,  "  and  must  apologize,  not  for  the 
error,  but  for  much  of  my  late  behaviour  which  has  re- 
sulted from  it." 

"  The  error  was  mine!  It  was  I  who  found  that  paper 
in  your  room,  and  showed  it  to  George,  and  was  jealous 
of  j'ou,  Colonel.  All  women  are  jealous,"  cried  Mrs. 
Mountain. 

"  'Tis  a  pit}^  you  could  not  have  kept  your  eyes  off  my 
paper,  Madam,"  said  jNIr.  Washington.  "  You  will  per- 
mit me  to  say  so.  A  great  deal  of  mischief  has  come 
because  I  chose  to  keep  a  secret  which  concerned  only 
myself  and  another  person.  For  a  long  time  George 
Warrington's  heart  has  been  black  with  anger  against 
me,  and  my  feeling  towards  him  has,  I  own,  scarce  been 


148  THE  VIRGINIANS 

more  friendly.  All  this  pain  might  have  been  spared  to 
both  of  us,  had  my  private  papers  only  been  read  by 
those  for  whom  they  were  written.  I  shall  say  no  more 
now,  lest  my  feelings  again  should  betray  me  into  hasty 
words.  Heaven  bless  thee,  Harry!  Farewell,  George! 
And  take  a  true  friend's  advice,  and  try  and  be  less  ready 
to  think  evil  of  j^our  friends.  We  shall  meet  again  at 
the  camp,  and  will  keep  our  weapons  for  the  enemy. 
Gentlemen !  if  you  remember  this  scene  to-morrow,  you 
will  know  where  to  find  me."  And  with  a  very  stately 
bow  to  the  English  officers,  the  Colonel  left  the  abashed 
company,  and  speedily  rode  away. 


CHAPTER  XII 


NEAVS    FROM    THE    CAMP 


E  must  fancy  that 
the  parting  be- 
tween the  broth- 
ers is  over,  that 
George  has  taken 
his  place  in  Mr. 
Braddock's  fam- 
ily, and  Harry  has 
returned  home  to 
Castlewood  and 
his  duty.  His 
heart  is  with  the 
army,  and  his  pur- 
suits at  home  offer 
the  boy  no  plea- 
sure. He  does  not 
care  to  own  how 
deep  his  disappointment  is,  at  being  obliged  to  stay 
under  the  homely,  quiet  roof,  now  more  melancholy  than 
ever  since  George  is  away.  Harry  passes  his  brother's 
empty  chamber  with  an  averted  face;  takes  George's 
place  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  sighs  as  he  drinks 
from  his  silver  tankard.  Madam  Warrington  calls  the 
toast  of  "  The  King"  stoutly  every  day;  and  on  Sun- 
days, when  Harry  reads  the  Service,  and  prays  for  all 
travellers  by  land  and  by  water,  she  says,  "  We  beseech 

149 


150  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Thee  to  hear  us,"  with  a  peculiar  solemnity.  She  insists 
on  talking  about  George  constantly,  but  quite  cheerfully, 
and  as  if  his  return  was  certain.  She  walks  into  his 
vacant  room,  with  head  upright,  and  no  outward  signs 
of  emotion.  She  sees  that  his  books,  linen,  papers,  &c., 
are  arranged  with  care;  talking  of  him  with  a  very 
special  respect,  and  specially  appealing  to  the  old  ser- 
vants at  meals,  and  so  forth,  regarding  things  which  are 
to  be  done  "  when  Mr.  George  comes  home."  Mrs. 
JNIountain  is  constantly  on  the  whimper  when  George's 
name  is  mentioned,  and  Harry's  face  wears  a  look  of 
the  most  ghastly  alarm;  but  his  mother's  is  invariably 
grave  and  sedate.  She  makes  more  blunders  at  picquet 
and  backgammon  than  you  would  expect  from  her ;  and 
the  servants  find  her  awake  and  dressed,  however  early 
they  may  rise.  She  has  prayed  Mr.  Dempster  to  come 
back  into  residence  at  Castlewood.  She  is  not  severe  or 
haughty  (as  her  wont  certainly  was)  with  any  of  the 
party,  but  quiet  in  her  talk  with  them,  and  gentle  in  as- 
sertion and  reply.  She  is  for  ever  talking  of  her  father 
and  his  campaigns,  who  came  out  of  them  all  with  no 
very  severe  wounds  to  hurt  him;  and  so  she  hopes  and 
trusts  will  her  eldest  son. 

George  writes  frequent  letters  home  to  his  brother, 
and,  now  the  army  is  on  its  march,  compiles  a  rough 
journal,  which  he  forwards  as  occasion  serves.  This 
document  is  perused  with  great  delight  and  eagerness 
by  the  youth  to  whom  it  is  addressed,  and  more  than 
once  read  out  in  family  council,  on  the  long  summer 
nights,  as  Madam  Esmond  sits  upright  at  her  tea-table 
—  (she  never  condescends  to  use  the  back  of  a  chair)  — 
as  little  Fanny  Mountain  is  busy  with  her  sewing,  as 
Mr.  Dempster  and  Mrs.  Mountain  sit  over  their  cards, 


THE  VIRGINIANS  151 

as  the  hushed  old  servants  of  the  house  move  about 
silently  in  the  gloaming,  and  listen  to  the  words  of  the 
young  master.  Hearken  to  Harry  Warrington  reading 
out  his  brother's  letter!  As  we  look  at  the  slim  charac- 
ters on  the  yellow  page,  fondly  kept  and  put  aside, 
we  can  almost  fancy  him  alive  who  wrote  and  who  read 
it — and  yet,  lo!  they  are  as  if  they  never  had  been;  their 
portraits  faint  images  in  frames  of  tarnished  gold.  Were 
they  real  once,  or  are  they  mere  phantasms?  Did  they 
live  and  die  once?  Did  they  love  each  other  as  true 
brothers,  and  loyal  gentlemen?  Can  we  hear  their 
voices  in  the  past  ?  Sure  I  know  Harry's,  and  yonder  he 
sits  in  the  warm  summer  evening,  and  reads  his  young 
brother's  simple  story:— 

"  It  must  be  owned  that  the  provinces  are  acting 
scurvily  by  his  INIajesty  King  George  II.,  and  his  repre- 
sentative here  is  in  a  flame  of  fury.  Virginia  is  bad 
enough,  and  poor  Maryland  not  much  better,  but  Penn- 
sylvania is  worst  of  all.  We  pray  them  to  send  us  troops 
from  home  to  fight  the  French ;  and  we  promise  to  main- 
tain the  troops  when  they  come.  We  not  only  don't  keep 
our  promise,  and  make  scarce  any  provision  for  our  de- 
fenders, but  our  people  insist  upon  the  most  exorbitant 
prices  for  their  cattle  and  stores,  and  actually  clieat  the 
soldiers  who  are  come  to  fight  their  battles.  No  wonder 
the  General  swears,  and  the  troops  are  sulky.  The  de- 
lays have  been  endless.  Owing  to  the  failure  of  the 
several  provinces  to  provide  their  promised  stores  and 
means  of  locomotion,  weeks  and  months  have  elapsed, 
during  which  time,  no  doubt,  the  French  have  been 
strengthening  themselves  on  our  frontier  and  in  the 
forts  they  have  turned  us  out  of.  Though  tlicre  never 
will  be  any  love  lost  between  me  and  Colonel  Washing- 


152  THE  VIRGINIANS 

ton,  it  must  be  owned  that  your  favourite  (I  am  not 
jealous,  Hal,)  is  a  brave  man  and  a  good  officer.  The 
family  respect  him  verj^  much,  and  the  General  is  always 
asking  his  opinion.  Indeed,  he  is  almost  the  only  man 
who  has  seen  the  Indians  in  their  war-paint,  and  I  own  I 
think  he  was  right  in  firing  upon  Mons.  Jumonville  last 
year. 

*'  There  is  to  be  no  more  suite  to  that  other  quarrel  at 
Benson's  Tavern  than  there  was  to  the  proposed  battle 
between  Colonel  W.  and  a  certain  young  gentleman  who 
shall  be  nameless.  Captain  Waring  wished  to  pursue  it 
on  coming  into  camp,  and  brought  the  message  from 
Captain  Grace,  which  your  friend,  who  is  as  bold  as 
Hector,  was  for  taking  up,  and  employed  a  brother  aide- 
de-camp,  Colonel  Wingfield,  on  his  side.  But  when 
Wingfield  heard  the  circumstances  of  the  quarrel,  how 
it  had  arisen  from  Grace  being  drunk,  and  was  fomented 
by  Waring  being  tipsy,  and  how  the  two  44th  gentlemen 
had  chosen  to  insult  a  militia  officer,  he  swore  that  Colo- 
nel Washington  should  not  meet  the  44th  men ;  that  he 
would  carry  the  matter  straightway  to  his  Excellency, 
who  would  bring  the  two  captains  to  a  court-martial  for 
brawling  with  the  militia,  and  drunkenness,  and  indecent 
behaviour,  and  the  captains  were  fain  to  put  up  their 
toasting-irons,  and  swallow  their  wrath.  They  were 
good-natured  enough  out  of  their  cups,  and  ate  their 
humble  pie  with  very  good  appetites  at  a  reconciliation 
dinner  which  Colonel  W.  had  with  the  44th,  and  where  he 
was  as  perfectly  stupid  and  correct  as  Prince  Prettyman 
need  be.  Hang  him !  He  has  no  faults,  and  that's  why 
I  dislike  him.  When  he  marries  that  widow— ah  me! 
what  a  dreary  life  she  will  have  of  it." 

"  I  wonder  at  the  taste  of  some  men,  and  the  effron- 
tery of  some  women,"  says  Madam  Esmond,  laying  her 


'^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS  153 

teacup  down.  "  I  wonder  at  any  woman  who  has  been 
married  once,  so  forgetting  herself  as  to  marry  again! 
Don't  you,  IMountain?  " 

"  ]Monstrous! "  says  Mountain,  with  a  queer  look. 

Dempster  keeps  his  eyes  steadily  fixed  on  his  glass 
of  punch.  Harry  looks  as  if  he  was  choking  with  laugh- 
ter, or  with  some  other  concealed  emotion,  but  his  mother 
says,  "  Go  on,  Harry!  Continue  with  your  brother's 
journal.  He  writes  well:  but,  ah,  will  he  ever  be  able 
to  write  like  my  papa? " 

Harry  resumes:  "  We  keep  the  strictest  order  here  in 
camp,  and  the  orders  against  drunkenness  and  ill  be- 
haviour on  the  part  of  the  men  are  very  severe.  The 
roll  of  each  company  is  called  at  morning,  noon,  and 
night,  and  a  return  of  the  absent  and  disorderly  is  given 
in  by  the  officer  to  the  commanding  officer  of  the  regi- 
ment, who  has  to  see  that  they  are  properly  punished. 
The  men  are  punished,  and  the  drummers  are  always  at 
work.  Oh,  Harry,  but  it  made  one  sick  to  see  the  first 
blood  drawn  from  a  great  strong  white  back,  and  to  hear 
the  piteous  yell  of  the  poor  fellow." 

"  Oh,  horrid!  "  says  Madam  Esmond. 

"  I  tliink  I  sliould  have  murdered  Ward  if  he  had 
flogged  me.  Thank  heaven  he  got  off  with  only  a  crack 
of  the  ruler!  The  men,  I  say,  are  looked  after  care- 
fully enough.  I  wish  the  officers  were.  The  Indians 
have  just  broken  up  their  camp,  and  retired  in  dudgeon, 
because  the  young  officers  were  for  ever  drinking  with 
the  squaws— and  — and— hum— ha."  Here  Mr.  Harry 
pauses,  as  not  caring  to  proceed  with  the  narrative,  in 
the  presence  of  little  Fanny,  very  likely,  who  sits  primly 
in  her  chair  by  her  mother's  side,  working  her  little  sam- 
pler. 

"  Pass  over  that  about  the  odious  tipsy  creatures,"  says 


154  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Madam.  And  Harry  commences,  in  a  loud  tone,  a  much 
more  satisfactory  statement:  "Each  regiment  has 
Divine  Service  performed  at  the  head  of  its  colours 
every  Sunday.  The  General  does  everything  in  the 
power  of  mortal  man  to  prevent  plundering,  and  to  en- 
courage the  people  round  about  to  bring  in  provisions. 
He  has  declared  soldiers  shall  be  shot  who  dare  to  inter- 
rupt or  molest  the  market  people.  He  has  ordered  the 
price  of  provisions  to  be  raised  a  penny  a  pound,  and  has 
lent  money  out  of  his  own  pocket  to  provide  the  camp. 
Altogether,  he  is  a  strange  compound,  this  General.  He 
flogs  his  men  without  mercy,  but  he  gives  without  stint. 
He  swears  most  tremendous  oaths  in  conversation,  and 
tells  stories  which  INIountain  would  be  shocked  to  hear — " 

"  Why  me?"  asks  ]Mountain;  "  and  what  have  I  to 
do  with  the  General's  silly  stories?  " 

"Never  mind  the  stories;  and  go  on,  Harry,"  cries 
the  mistress  of  the  house. 

"—would  be  shocked  to  hear  after  dinner;  but  he 
never  misses  service.  He  adores  his  Great  Duke,  and  has 
his  name  constantly  on  his  lips.  Our  two  regiments  both 
served  in  Scotland,  where  I  dare  say  Mr.  Dempster  knew 
the  colour  of  their  facings." 

"  We  saw  the  tails  of  their  coats,  as  well  as  their  fa- 
cings," growls  the  little  Jacobite  tutor. 

"  Colonel  Washington  has  had  the  fever  verj^  smartly, 
and  has  hardly  been  well  enough  to  keep  up  with  the 
march.  Had  he  not  better  go  home  and  be  nursed  by  his 
widow  ?  When  either  of  us  is  ill,  we  are  almost  as  good 
friends  again  as  ever.  But  I  feel  somehow  as  if  I  can't 
forgive  him  for  having  wronged  him.  Good  Powers! 
How  I  have  been  hating  him  for  these  months  past! 
Oh,  Harry!    I  was  in  a  fury  at  the  tavern  the  other  day, 


•r»3- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  155 

because  jNIountain  came  up  so  soon,  and  put  an  end  to 
our  difference.  We  ought  to  have  burned  a  little  gun- 
powder between  us,  and  cleared  the  air.  But  though  I 
don't  love  him  as  you  do,  I  know  he  is  a  good  soldier, 
a  good  officer,  and  a  brave,  honest  man;  and,  at  any 
rate,  shall  love  him  none  the  worse  for  not  wanting  to 
be  our  step-father." 

"A  step-father,  indeed!"  cries  Hany's  mother. 
"  Why,  jealousy  and  prejudice  have  perfectly  maddened 
the  poor  child!  Do  you  suppose  the  Marquis  of  Es- 
mond's daughter  and  heiress  could  not  have  found  other 
step-fathers  for  her  sons  than  a  mere  provincial  sur- 
veyor? If  there  are  any  more  such  allusions  in  George's 
journal,  I  beg  you  skip  'em,  Harry,  my  dear.  About 
this  piece  of  folly  and  blundering,  there  hath  been  quite 
talk  enough  already." 

"  'Tis  a  pretty  sight,"  Harry  continued,  reading  from 
his  brother's  journal,  "  to  see  a  long  line  of  red-coats, 
threading  through  the  woods  or  taking  their  ground 
after  the  march.  The  care  against  surprise  is  so  great 
and  constant,  that  we  defy  prowling  Indians  to  come 
unawares  upon  us,  and  our  advanced  sentries  and  sav- 
ages have  on  the  contrary  fallen  in  with  the  enemy  and 
taken  a  scalp  or  two  from  them.  They  are  such  cruel 
villains,  these  French  and  their  painted  allies,  that  we 
do  not  think  of  showing  them  mercy.  Only  think,  we 
found  but  yesterday  a  little  boy  scalped  but  yet  alive  in 
a  lone  house,  where  his  parents  had  been  attacked  and 
murdered  by  the  savage  enemy,  of  whom — so  great  is 
his  indignation  at  their  cruelty— our  General  has  offered 
a  reward  of  5l.  for  all  the  Indian  scalps  brought  in. 

"  When  our  march  is  over,  you  slionld  see  our  camp, 
and  all  the  care  bestowed  on  it.    Our  ])aggage  and  our 


15G  THE  VIRGINIANS 

General's  tents  and  guard  are  placed  quite  in  the  centre 
of  the  camp.  We  have  outlying  sentries  by  twos,  by 
threes,  by  tens,  by  whole  companies.  At  the  least  sur- 
prise, they  are  instructed  to  run  in  on  the  main  body 
and  rally  round  the  tents  and  baggage,  which  are  so 
arranged  themselves  as  to  be  a  strong  fortification.  Sady 
and  I,  you  must  know,  are  marching  on  foot  now,  and 
my  horses  are  carrying  baggage.  The  Pennsylvanians 
sent  such  rascally  animals  into  camp  that  they  speedily 
gave  in.  What  good  horses  were  left  'twas  our  duty 
to  give  up :  and  Roxana  has  a  couple  of  packs  upon  her 
back  instead  of  her  young  master.  She  knows  me  right 
well,  and  whinnies  when  she  sees  me,  and  I  walk  by  her 
side,  and  we  have  many  a  talk  together  on  the  march. 

"  July  4.  To  guard  against  surprises,  we  are  all 
warned  to  pay  especial  attention  to  the  beat  of  the  drum ; 
always  halting  when  we  hear  the  long  roll  beat,  and 
marching  at  the  beat  of  the  long  march.  We  are  more 
on  the  alert  regarding  the  enemy  now.  We  have  our 
advanced  pickets  doubled,  and  two  sentries  at  every  post. 
The  men  on  the  advanced  pickets  are  constantly  under 
arms,  with  fixed  bayonets,  all  through  the  night,  and 
relieved  every  two  hours.  The  half  that  are  relieved  lie 
down  by  their  arms,  but  are  not  suffered  to  leave  their 
pickets.  'Tis  evident  that  we  are  drawing  very  near  to 
the  enemy  now.  This  packet  goes  out  with  the  General's 
to  Colonel  Dunbar's  camp,  who  is  thirty  miles  behind  us ; 
and  will  be  carried  thence  to  Frederick,  and  thence  to 
my  honoured  mother's  house  at  Castlewood,  to  whom  I 
send  my  duty,  with  kindest  remembrances,  as  to  all 
friends  there,  and  how  much  love  I  need  not  saj'-  to  my 
dearest  brother  from  his  affectionate 

"  George  E.  Warrington." 


THE  VIRGINIANS  157 

The  whole  land  was  now  lying  parched  and  scorching 
in  the  July  heat.  For  ten  days  no  news  had  come  from 
the  column  advancing  on  the  Ohio.  Their  march,  though 
it  toiled  but  slowly  through  the  painful  forest,  must 
bring  them  ere  long  up  with  the  enemy ;  the  troops,  led 
by  consummate  captains,  were  accustomed  now  to  the 
wilderness,  and  not  afraid  of  surprise.  Every  precau- 
tion had  been  taken  against  ambush.  It  was  the  out- 
tying  eneni}^  who  were  discovered,  pursued,  destroyed, 
by  the  vigilant  scouts  and  skirmishers  of  the  British 
force.  The  last  news  heard  was  that  the  army  had  ad- 
vanced considerably^  beyond  the  ground  of  Mr.  Wash- 
ington's discomfiture  in  the  previous  year,  and  two  days 
after  must  be  within  a  day's  march  of  the  French  fort. 
About  taking  it  no  fears  were  entertained ;  the  amount 
of  the  French  reinforcements  from  Montreal  was  known. 
INIr.  Braddock,  with  his  two  veteran  regiments  from 
Britain,  and  their  allies  of  Virginia  and  Pennsylvania, 
were  more  than  a  match  for  any  troops  that  could  be  col- 
lected under  the  white  flag. 

Such  continued  to  be  the  talk,  in  the  sparse  towns  of 
our  Virginian  province,  at  the  gentry's  houses,  and  the 
rough  road-side  taverns,  where  people  met  and  canvassed 
the  war.  The  few  messengers  who  were  sent  back  by  the 
General  reported  well  of  the  main  force.  'Twas  thought 
the  enemy  would  not  stand  or  defend  himself  at  all. 
Had  he  intended  to  attack,  he  might  have  seized  a  dozen 
occasions  for  assaulting  our  troops  at  passes  through 
which  they  had  been  allowed  to  go  entirely  free.  So 
(rcorge  had  given  up  his  favourite  mare,  like  a  hero  as 
he  was,  and  was  marching  afoot  with  the  line?  Madam 
Esmond  vowed  that  he  should  have  tlie  best  horse  in 
Virginia  or  Carolina  in  place  of  Roxana.     There  were 


158  THE  VIRGINIANS 

horses  enough  to  be  had  in  the  provinces,  and  for  money. 
It  was  only  for  the  King's  service  that  they  were  not 
forthcoming. 

Although  at  their  family  meetings  and  repasts  the 
inmates  of  Castle  wood  always  talked  cheerfully,  never 
anticipating  any  but  a  triumphant  issue  to  the  campaign, 
or  acknowledging  any  feeling  of  disquiet,  yet,  it  must 
be  owned  they  were  mighty  uneasy  when  at  home,  quit- 
ting it  ceaselessly,  and  for  ever  on  the  trot  from  one 
neighbour's  house  to  another  in  quest  of  news.  It  was 
prodigious  how  quickly  reports  ran  and  spread.  When, 
for  instance,  a  certain  noted  border  warrior,  called  Colo- 
nel Jack,  had  offered  himself  and  his  huntsmen  to  the 
General,  who  had  declined  the  ruffian's  terms  or  his  prof- 
fered service,  the  defection  of  Jack  and  his  men  was  the 
talk  of  thousands  of  tongues  immediately.  The  house 
negroes,  in  their  midnight  gallops  about  the  country, 
in  search  of  junketing  or  sweethearts,  brought  and 
spread  news  over  amazingly  wide  districts.  They  had 
a  curious  knowledge  of  the  incidents  of  the  march  for  a 
fortnight  at  least  after  its  commencement.  They  knew 
and  laughed  at  the  cheats  practised  on  the  army  for 
horses,  provisions,  and  the  like ;  for  a  good  bargain  over 
the  foreigner  was  not  an  unf requent  or  unpleasant  prac- 
tice among  New  Yorkers,  Pennsylvanians,  or  Maryland- 
ers;  though  'tis  known  that  American  folks  have  be- 
come perfectly  artless  and  simple  in  later  times,  and 
never  grasp,  and  never  overreach,  and  are  never  selfish 
now.  For  three  weeks  after  the  army's  departure,  the 
thousand  reports  regarding  it  were  cheerful;  and  when 
our  Castlewood  friends  met  at  their  supper,  their  tone 
was  confident  and  their  news  pleasant. 

But  on  the  10th  of  July  a  vast  and  sudden  gloom 


THE  VIRGINIANS  159 

spread  over  the  province.  A  look  of  terror  and  doubt 
seemed  to  fall  upon  every  face.  Affrighted  negroes 
wistfully  eyed  their  masters,  and  retired,  and  hummed 
and  whispered  with  one  another.  The  fiddles  ceased 
in  the  quarters :  the  song  and  laugh  of  those  cheery  black 
folk  were  hushed.  Right  and  left,  everybody's  servants 
were  on  the  gallop  for  news.  The  country  taverns  were 
thronged  with  horsemen,  who  drank  and  cursed  and 
brawled  at  the  bars,  each  bringing  his  gloomy  story. 
The  army  had  been  surprised.  The  troops  had  fallen 
into  an  ambuscade,  and  had  been  cut  up  almost  to  a 
man.  All  the  officers  were  taken  down  by  the  French 
marksmen  and  the  savages.  The  General  had  been 
wounded,  and  carried  oif  the  field  in  his  sash.  Four 
days  afterwards  the  report  was  that  the  General  was 
dead,  and  scalped  by  a  French  Indian. 

Ah,  what  a  scream  poor  JNIrs.  Mountain  gave,  when 
Gumbo  brought  this  news  from  across  the  James  River, 
and  little  Fanny  sprang  crying  to  her  mother's  arms! 
"  Lord  God  Almighty,  watch  over  us,  and  defend  my 
boy!"  said  Mrs.  Esmond,  sinking  down  on  her  knees, 
and  lifting  her  rigid  hands  to  Heaven.  The  gentlemen 
were  not  at  home  when  this  rumour  arrived,  but  they 
came  in  an  hour  or  two  afterwards,  each  from  his  hunt 
for  news.  The  Scots  tutor  did  not  dare  to  look  up  and 
meet  the  widow's  agonising  looks.  Harry  Warrington 
was  as  pale  as  his  mother.  It  might  not  be  true  about 
the  manner  of  the  General's  death — but  he  was  dead. 
The  arm}^  had  been  surprised  ])y  Indians,  and  had  fled, 
and  been  killed  without  seeing  the  enemy.  An  express 
had  arrived  from  Dunbar's  camp.  Fugitives  were  pour- 
ing in  there.  Sliould  he  go  and  see?  He  must  go  an(] 
see.    He  and  stout  little  Dempster  armed  themselves  and 


IGO  THE  VIRGINIANS 

mounted,  taking  a  couple  of  mounted  servants  with 
them. 

They  followed  the  northward  track  which  the  expe- 
ditionary army  had  hewed  out  for  itself,  and  at  every 
step  which  brought  them  nearer  to  the  scene  of  action, 
the  disaster  of  the  fearful  day  seemed  to  magnify.  The 
day  after  the  defeat  a  number  of  the  miserable  fugitives 
from  the  fatal  battle  of  the  9th  July  had  reached 
Dunbar's  camp,  fifty  miles  from  the  field.  Thither  poor 
Harry  and  his  companions  rode,  stopping  stragglers, 
asking  news,  giving  money,  getting  from  one  and  all 
the  same  gloomy  tale.  A  thousand  men  were  slain — two- 
thirds  of  the  officers  were  down— all  the  General's  aides- 
de-camp  were  hit.  Were  hit? — but  were  they  killed? 
Those  who  fell  never  rose  again.  The  tomahawk  did  its 
work  upon  them.  O  brother,  brother!  All  the  fond 
memories  of  their  youth,  all  the  dear  remembrances  of 
their  childhood,  the  love  and  the  laughter,  the  tender 
romantic  vows  which  they  had  pledged  to  each  other 
as  lads,  were  recalled  by  Harry  with  pangs  inexpressibly 
keen.  Wounded  men  looked  up  and  were  softened  by 
his  grief:  rough  women  melted  as  they  saw  the  woe 
written  on  the  handsome  young  face:  the  hardy  old 
tutor  could  scarcely  look  at  him  for  tears,  and  grieved 
for  him  even  more  than  for  his  dear  pupil  who  lay  dead 
under  the  savage  Indian  knife. 


The  Wilderneas 


-^ 


CHAPTER  XIII 


PROFITLESS   QUEST 

every  step  which 
Harry  War- 
rington took 
towards  Penn- 
sylvania, the 
reports  of  the 
British  disaster 
were  magnified 
and  confirmed. 
Those  two  fa- 
mous regi- 
ments which 
had  fought  in 
the  Scottish 
and  Continen- 
tal wars,  had 
fled  from  an  enemy  almost  unseen,  and  their  hoasted  dis- 
cipline and  valour  had  not  enabled  them  to  face  a  band 
of  savages  and  a  few  French  infantry.  The  unfortunate 
commander  of  the  expedition  had  shown  the  utmost 
bravery  and  resolution.  Four  times  his  horse  had  been 
shot  under  him.  Twice  he  had  been  wounded,  and  the 
last  time  of  the  mortal  hurt  which  ended  his  life  three 
days  after  the  battle.  More  than  one  of  Harry's  in- 
formants described  the  action  to  the  poor  lad, — the  pas- 
sage of  the  river,  the  long  line  of  advance  through  the 

161 


1G2  THE  VIRGINIANS 

wilderness,  the  firing  in  front,  the  vain  struggle  of  the 
men  to  advance,  and  the  artillery  to  clear  the  way  of  the 
enemy;  then  the  amhushed  fire  from  behind  every  bush 
and  tree,  and  the  murderous  fusilade,  by  which  at  least 
half  of  the  expeditionary  force  had  been  shot  down. 
But  not  all  the  General's  suite  were  killed,  Harry  heard. 
One  of  his  aides-de-camp,  a  Virginian  gentleman,  was 
ill  of  fever  and  exhausted  at  Dunbar's  camp. 

One  of  them— but  which?  To  the  camp  Harry  hur- 
ried, and  reached  it  at  length.  It  was  George  Washing- 
ton Harry  found  stretched  in  a  tent  there,  and  not  his 
brother.  A  sharper  pain  than  that  of  the  fever  Mr. 
Washington  declared  he  felt,  when  he  saw  Harry  War- 
rington, and  could  give  him  no  news  of  George. 

Mr.  Washington  did  not  dare  to  tell  Harry  all.  For 
three  days  after  the  fight  his  duty  had  been  to  be  near 
the  General.  On  the  fatal  9th  of  July,  he  had  seen 
George  go  to  the  front  with  orders  from  the  chief,  to 
whose  side  he  never  returned.  After  Braddock  himself 
died,  the  aide-de-camp  had  found  means  to  retrace  his 
course  to  the  field.  The  corpses  which  remained  there 
were  stripped  and  horribly  mutilated.  One  body  he 
buried  which  he  thought  to  be  George  Warrington's. 
His  own  illness  was  increased,  perhaps  occasioned,  by 
the  anguish  which  he  underwent  in  his  search  for  the 
unhappy  young  volunteer. 

"  All,  George!  If  you  had  loved  him  you  would  have 
found  him  dead  or  alive,"  Harry  cried  out.  Nothing 
would  satisfy  him  but  that  he,  too,  should  go  to  the 
ground  and  examine  it.  With  money  he  procured  a 
guide  or  two.  He  forded  the  river  at  the  place  where 
the  army  had  passed  over;  he  went  from  one  end  to 
the  other  of  the  dreadful  field.    It  was  no  longer  haunted 


THE  VIRGINIANS  163 

by  Indians  now.  The  birds  of  prey  were  feeding  on 
the  mangled  festering  carcasses.  Save  in  his  own  grand- 
father, lying  very  calm,  with  a  sweet  smile  on  his  lip, 
^  Harrj^  had  never  j^et  seen  the  face  of  Death.  The  horri- 
*^'ble  spectacle  of  mutilation  caused  him  to  turn  away 
with  shudder  and  loathing.  What  news  could  the  vacant 
woods,  or  those  festering  corpses  lying  under  the  trees, 
give  the  lad  of  his  lost  brother?  He  was  for  going, 
unarmed  and  with  a  white  flag,  to  the  French  fort, 
whither,  after  their  victory,  the  enemy  had  returned ;  but 
his  guides  refused  to  advance  with  him.  The  French 
might  possibly  respect  them,  but  the  Indians  would  not. 
"  Keep  your  hair  for  your  lady-mother,  my  young  gen- 
tleman," said  the  guide.  "  'Tis  enough  that  she  loses 
one  son  in  this  campaign." 

When  Harry  returned  to  the  English  encampment  at 
Dunbar's,  it  was  his  turn  to  be  down  with  the  fever. 
Delirium  set  in  upon  him,  and  he  lay  some  time  in  the 
tent  and  on  the  bed  from  which  his  friend  had  just 
risen  convalescent.  For  some  days  he  did  not  know  who 
watched  him:  and  poor  Dempster,  who  had  tended 
him  in  more  than  one  of  these  maladies,  thought  the 
widow  must  lose  both  her  children ;  but  the  fever  was  so 
far  subdued  tliat  the  boy  was  enabled  to  rally  some- 
what, and  get  to  horseback.  Mr.  Washington  and 
Dempster  both  escorted  him  home.  It  was  with  a  heavy 
heart,  no  doubt,  that  all  three  beheld  once  more  the 
gates  of  Castlewood. 

A  servant  in  advance  had  been  sent  to  announce  their 
coming.  First  came  Mrs.  Mountain  and  her  little 
daughter,  welcoming  Harry  with  many  tears  and  em- 
braces; but  she  scarce  gave  a  nod  of  recognition  to 
Mr.  Washington;   and  the  little  girl  caused  the  young 


1C4  THE  VIRGINIANS 

officer  to  start,  and  turn  deadly  pale,  by  coming  up  to 
him  with  her  hands  behind  her,  and  asking,  "  Why  have 
you  not  brought  George  back,  too?"  Harry  did  not 
hear.  The  sobs  and  caresses  of  his  good  friend  and 
nurse  luckily  kept  him  from  listening  to  little  Fanny. 

Dempster  was  graciously  received  by  the  two  ladies. 
"  Whatever  could  be  done,  we  know  you  would  do,  Mr. 
Dempster,"  says  Mrs.  Mountain,  giving  him  her  hand. 
"  Make  a  curtsey  to  ]Mr.  Dempster,  Fanny,  and  remem- 
ber, child,  to  be  grateful  to  all  who  have  been  friendly 
to  our  benefactors.  Will  it  please  you  to  take  any 
refreshment  before  you  ride.  Colonel  Washington?" 

Mr.  Washington  had  had  a  sufficient  ride  already,  and 
counted  as  certainly  upon  the  hospitality  of  Castlewood, 
as  he  would  upon  the  shelter  of  his  own  house. 

"  The  time  to  feed  my  horse,  and  a  glass  of  water  for 
myself,  and  I  will  trouble  Castlewood  hospitality  no 
farther,"  Mr.  Washington  said. 

"  Sure,  George,  you  have  your  room  here,  and  my 
mother  is  above  stairs  getting  it  ready!"  cries  Harry. 
"  That  poor  horse  of  yours  stumbled  with  you,  and  can't 
go  farther  this  evening." 

"Hush!  Your  mother  won't  see  him,  child,"  whis- 
pered Mrs.  Mountain. 

"  Not  see  George?  Why,  he  is  like  a  son  of  the 
house,"  cries  Harry. 

"  She  had  best  not  see  him.  I  don't  meddle  any  more 
in  family  matters,  child :  but  when  the  Colonel's  servant 
rode  in,  and  said  you  were  coming,  Madam  Esmond  left 
this  room,  my  dear,  where  she  was  sitting  reading  *  Dre- 
lincourt,'  and  said  she  felt  she  could  not  see  Mr.  Wash- 
ington. Will  you  go  to  her?  "  Harry  took  his  friend's 
arm,  and  excusing  himself  to  the  Colonel,  to  whom  he 


THE  VIRGINIANS  165 

said  he  would  return  in  a  few  minutes,  he  left  the  parlour 
in  which  they  had  assembled,  and  went  to  the  upper 
rooms,  where  Madam  Esmond  was. 

He  was  hastening  across  the  corridor,  and,  with  an 
r>  averted  head,  passing  by  one  especial  door,  which  he 
did  not  like  to  look  at,  for  it  was  that  of  his  brother's 
room;  but  as  he  came  to  it.  Madam  Esmond  issued  from 
it,  and  folded  him  to  her  heart,  and  led  him  in.  A  settee 
was  by  the  bed,  and  a  book  of  psalms  lay  on  the  cover- 
let. All  the  rest  of  the  room  was  exactly  as  George  had 
left  it. 

"My  poor  child!  How  thin  thou  art  grown— how 
haggard  you  look!  Never  mind.  A  mother's  care  will 
make  thee  well  again.  'Twas  nobly  done  to  go  and 
brave  sickness  and  danger  in  search  of  your  brother. 
Had  others  been  as  faithful,  he  might  be  here  now. 
Never  mind,  my  Harry ;  our  hero  will  come  back  to  us, 
— I  know  he  is  not  dead.  One  so  good,  and  so  brave, 
and  so  gentle,  and  so  clever  as  he  was,  I  know  is  not  lost 
to  us  altogether."  (Perhaps  Harry  thought  within 
himself  that  his  mother  had  not  always  been  accustomed 
so  to  speak  of  her  eldest  son.)  "  Dry  up  thy  tears,  my 
dear!  He  will  come  back  to  us,  I  know  he  will  come." 
And  when  Harry  pressed  her  to  give  a  reason  for  her 
belief,  she  said  she  had  seen  her  father  two  nights  run- 
ning in  a  dream,  and  he  had  told  her  that  her  boy  was  a 
prisoner  among  the  Indians. 

Madam  Esmond's  grief  had  not  prostrated  her  as 
Harry's  had  when  first  it  fell  upon  him;  it  had  rather 
stirred  and  animated  her:  her  eyes  were  eager,  her  coun- 
tenance angry  and  revengeful.  The  lad  wondered  al- 
most at  the  condition  in  which  he  found  his  mother. 

But  when  he  besought  her  to  go  down  stairs,  and  give 


166  THE  VIRGINIANS 

a  hand  of  welcome  to  George  Washington,  who  had 
accompanied  him,  the  lady's  excitement  painfully  in- 
creased. She  said  she  should  shudder  at  touching  his 
hand.  She  declared  Mr.  Washington  had  taken  her  son 
from  her,  she  could  not  sleep  under  the  same  roof  with 
him. 

"  Pie  gave  me  his  bed  when  I  was  ill,  mother;  and  if 
our  George  is  alive,  how  has  George  Washington  a  hand 
in  his  death?  Ah!  please  God  it  be  only  as  you  say," 
cried  Harrj^  in  bewilderment. 

"  If  your  brother  returns,  as  return  he  will,  it  will  not 
be  through  Mr.  Washington's  help,"  said  Madam  Es- 
mond. "  He  neither  defended  George  on  the  field,  nor 
would  he  bring  him  out  of  it." 

"  But  he  tended  me  most  kindly  in  my  fever,"  inter- 
posed Harry.  "  He  was  yet  ill  when  he  gave  up  his  bed 
to  me,  and  was  thinking  of  his  friend,  when  any  other 
man  would  have  thought  only  of  himself." 

"  A  friend !  A  pretty  friend !  "  sneers  the  lady.  "  Of 
all  his  Excellency's  aides-de-camp,  my  gentleman  is  the 
only  one  who  comes  back  unwounded.  The  brave  and 
noble  fall,  but  he,  to  be  sure,  is  unhurt.  I  confide  my 
boy  to  him,  the  pride  of  my  life,  whom  he  will  defend 
with  his,  forsooth!  And  he  leaves  my  George  in  the 
forest,  and  brings  me  back  himself!  Oh,  a  pretty  wel- 
come I  must  give  him!  " 

"  No  gentleman,"  cried  Harry,  warmly,  "  was  ever 
refused  shelter  under  my  grandfather's  roof." 

"  Oh,  no,— no  gentleman! "  exclaims  the  little  widow; 
"  let  us  go  down,  if  you  like,  son,  and  pay  our  respects 
to  this  one.  Will  you  please  to  give  me  your  arm?  "  and 
taking  an  arm  which  was  very  little  able  to  give  her 
support,  she  walked  down  the  broad  stairs,  and  into  the 
apartment  where  the  Colonel  sat. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  167 

She  made  him  a  ceremonious  curtsey,  and  extended 
one  of  the  Httle  hands,  which  she  allowed  for  a  moment 
to  rest  in  his.  "  I  wish  that  our  meeting  had  been  hap- 
pier, Colonel  Washington,"  she  said. 
'^  "  You  do  not  grieve  more  than  I  do  that  it  is  other- 
wise, JNIadam,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  I  might  have  wished  that  the  meeting  had  been 
spared,  that  I  might  not  have  kept  you  from  friends 
whom  you  are  naturally  anxious  to  see, — that  my  boy's 
indisposition  had  not  detained  you.  Home  and  his  good 
nurse  Mountain,  and  his  mother  and  our  good  Doctor 
Dempster  will  soon  restore  him.  'Twas  scarce  necessary. 
Colonel,  that  j^ou  who  have  so  many  affairs  on  your 
hands,  military  and  domestic,  should  turn  doctor  too." 

"  Harry  was  ill  and  weak,  and  I  thought  it  was  my 
duty  to  ride  by  him,"  faltered  the  Colonel. 

"  You  yourself,  sir,  have  gone  through  the  fatigues 
and  dangers  of  the  campaign  in  the  most  wonderful 
manner,"  said  the  widow,  curtseying  again,  and  looking 
at  him  with  her  impenetrable  black  eyes. 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven,  Madam,  some  one  else  had  come 
back  in  my  place!  ^' 

"  Nay,  sir,  you  have  ties  which  must  render  your  life 
more  than  ever  valuable  and  dear  to  you,  and  duties  to 
which,  I  know,  you  must  be  anxious  to  betake  yourself. 
In  our  present  deplorable  state  of  doubt  and  distress, 
Castlewood  can  be  a  welcome  place  to  no  stranger,  much 
less  to  you,  and  so  I  know,  sir,  you  will  be  for  leaving 
us  ere  long.  And  you  will  pardon  me  if  the  state  of 
my  own  spirits  obliges  me  for  the  most  part  to  keep  my 
chamber.  But  my  friends  here  will  bear  you  company 
as  long  as  you  favour  us,  whilst  I  nurse  my  poor  Harry 
upstairs.  Mountain!  you  will  have  the  cedar  room  on 
the  ground-floor  ready  for  Mr.  Washington,  and  any- 


168  THE  VIRGINIANS 

thing  in  the  house  is  at  his  command.  Farewell,  sir. 
Will  you  be  pleased  to  present  my  compliments  to  your 
mother,  who  will  be  thankful  to  have  her  son  safe  and 
sound  out  of  the  war,— as  also  to  my  young  friend 
Martha  Curtis,  to  whom  and  to  whose  children  I  wish 
every  happiness.  Come,  my  son!  "  and  with  these  words, 
and  another  freezing  curtsey,  the  pale  little  woman  re- 
treated, looking  steadily  at  the  Colonel,  who  stood  dumb 
on  the  floor. 

Strong  as  Madam  Esmond's  belief  appeared  to  be 
respecting  her  son's  safety,  the  house  of  Castlewood 
naturally  remained  sad  and  gloomy.  She  might  forbid 
mourning  for  herself  and  family;  but  her  heart  was  in 
black,  whatever  face  the  resolute  little  lady  persisted  in 
wearing  before  the  world.  To  look  for  her  son  was  hop- 
ing against  hope.  No  authentic  account  of  his  death  had 
indeed  arrived,  and  no  one  appeared  who  had  seen  him 
fall;  but  hundreds  more  had  been  so  stricken  on  that 
fatal  day,  with  no  eyes  to  behold  their  last  pangs,  save 
those  of  the  lurking  enemy  and  the  comrades  dying  by 
their  side.  A  fortnight  after  the  defeat,  when  Harry 
was  absent  on  his  quest,  George's  servant,  Sady,  re- 
appeared wounded  and  maimed  at  Castlewood.  But  he 
could  give  no  coherent  account  of  the  battle,  only  of  his 
flight  from  the  centre,  where  he  was  with  the  baggage. 
He  had  no  news  of  his  master  since  the  morning  of  the 
action.  For  many  days  Sady  lurked  in  the  negro 
quarters  away  from  the  sight  of  Madam  Esmond,  whose 
anger  he  did  not  dare  to  face.  That  lady's  few  neigh- 
bours spoke  of  her  as  labouring  under  a  delusion.  So 
strong  was  it,  that  there  were  times  when  Harry  and  the 
other  members  of  the  little  Castlewood  family  were  al- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  169 

most  brought  to  share  in  it.  It  seemed  nothing  strange 
to  her,  that  her  father  out  of  another  world  should  prom- 
ise her  her  son's  life.     In  this  world  or  the  next,  that 

^family    sure    must    be    of    consequence,    she    thought. 

^'Nothing  had  ever  yet  happened  to  her  sons :  no  accident, 
no  fever,  no  important  illness,  but  she  had  a  prevision 
of  it.  She  could  enumerate  half-a-dozen  instances, 
which,  indeed,  her  household  was  obliged  more  or  less  to 
confirm,  how,  when  anything  had  happened  to  the  boys 
at  ever  so  great  a  distance,  she  had  known  of  their  mis- 
hap and  its  consequences.  No,  George  was  not  dead; 
George  was  a  prisoner  among  the  Indians;  George 
would  come  back  and  rule  over  Castlewood;  as  sure,  as 
sure  as  his  Majesty  would  send  a  great  force  from  home 
to  recover  the  tarnished  glorj'-  of  the  British  arms,  and 
to  drive  the  French  out  of  the  Americas. 

As  for  Mr.  Washington,  she  would  never,  with  her 
own  good  will,  behold  him  again.  He  had  promised  to 
protect  George  with  his  life.  Why  was  her  son  gone 
and  the  Colonel  alive?  How  dared  he  to  face  her  after 
that  promise,  and  appear  before  a  mother  without  her 
son?  She  trusted  she  knew  her  duty.  She  bore  ill  will 
to  no  one :  but  as  an  Esmond,  she  had  a  sense  of  honour, 
and  Mr.  Washington  had  forfeited  his  in  letting  her  son 
out  of  his  sight.  He  had  to  obey  superior  orders  (some 
one  perhaps  objected)  ?  Psha!  a  promise  was  a  promise. 
He  had  promised  to  guard  George's  life  with  his  own, 
and  where  was  her  boy?  And  was  not  the  Colonel  (a 
pretty  Colonel,  indeed!)  sound  and  safe?  "  Do  not  tell 
me  that  his  coat  and  hat  had  shots  through  them !  "  ( This 
was  her  answer  to  another  humble  ])lea  in  Mr.  Washing- 
ton's behalf.)  "  Can't  I  go  into  the  study  this  instant 
and  fire  two  shots  with  my  papa's  pistols  through  this 


170  THE  VIRGINIANS 

paduasoy  skirt,— and  should  I  be  killed?  "  She  laughed 
at  the  notion  of  death  resulting  from  any  such  opera- 
tion; nor  was  her  laugh  very  pleasant  to  hear.  The 
satire  of  people  who  have  little  natural  humour  is  seldom 
good  sport  for  bystanders.  I  think  dull  men's  facetice 
are  mostly  cruel. 

So,  if  Harry  wanted  to  meet  his  friend,  he  had  to  do 
so  in  secret,  at  court-houses,  taverns,  or  various  places  of 
resort ;  or  in  their  little  towns,  where  the  provincial  gen- 
try assembled.  No  man  of  spirit,  she  vowed,  could  meet 
Mr.  Washington  after  his  base  desertion  of  her  family. 
She  was  exceedingly  excited  when  she  heard  that  the 
Colonel  and  her  son  absolutely  had  met.  What  a  heart 
must  Harry  have  to  give  his  hand  to  one  whom  she  con- 
sidered as  little  better  than  George's  murderer!  For 
shame  to  say  so!  "  For  shame  upon  you,  ungrateful  boy, 
forgetting  the  dearest,  noblest,  most  perfect  of  brothers, 
for  that  tall,  gawky,  fox-hunting  Colonel,  with  his  horrid 
oaths!  How  can  he  be  George's  murderer,  when  I  say 
my  boy  is  not  dead  ?  He  is  not  dead,  because  my  instinct 
never  deceived  me:  because,  as  sure  as  I  see  his  picture 
now  before  me, — only  'tis  not  near  so  noble  or  so  good 
as  he  used  to  look, — so  surely  two  nights  running  did 
my  papa  appear  to  me  in  my  dreams.  You  doubt  about 
that,  very  likely?  'Tis  because  you  never  loved  anybody 
sufficiently,  my  poor  Harry;  else  you  might  have  leave 
to  see  them  in  dreams,  as  has  been  vouchsafed  to  some." 

"  I  think  I  loved  George,  mother,"  cried  Harry.  "  I 
have  often  prayed  that  I  might  dream  about  him,  and 
I  don't." 

"  How  you  can  talk,  sir,  of*  loving  George,  and  then 
go  and  meet  your  Mr.  Washington  at  horse-races,  I 
can't  understand!    Can  you.  Mountain?" 


THE  VIRGINIANS  171 

"  We  can't  understand  manj^  things  in  our  neighbours' 
characters.  I  can  understand  that  our  boy  is  unliappy, 
and  that  he  does  not  get  strength,  and  that  he  is  doing 
no  good  here,  in  Castlewood,  or  moping  at  the  taverns 
cJTand  court-houses  with  horse-coupers  and  idle  company," 
grumbled  INIountain  in  reply  to  her  patroness;  and,  in 
truth,  the  dependant  was  right. 

There  was  not  only  grief  in  the  Castlewood  House, 
but  there  was  disunion.  "  I  cannot  tell  how  it  came," 
said  Harry,  as  he  brought  the  storj^  to  an  end,  which  we 
have  narrated  in  the  preceding  pages,  and  which  he  con- 
fided to  his  new-found  English  relative,  Madame  de 
Bernstein;  "  but  since  that  fatal  day  of  July,  last  year, 
and  my  return  home,  my  mother  never  has  been  the  same 
woman.  She  seemed  to  love  none  of  us  as  she  used.  She 
was  for  ever  praising  George,  and  yet  she  did  not  seem 
as  if  she  liked  him  much  when  he  was  with  us.  She  hath 
plunged,  more  deeply  than  ever,  into  her  books  of  devo- 
tion, out  of  which  she  only  manages  to  extract  grief  and 
sadness,  as  I  think.  Such  a  gloom  has  fallen  over  our 
wretched  Virginian  House  of  Castlewood,  that  we  all 
grew  ill,  and  pale  as  ghosts,  who  inhabited  it.  Mountain 
told  me.  Madam,  that,  for  nights,  my  mother  would  not 
close  her  eyes.  I  have  had  lier  at  my  bedside,  looking 
so  ghastly,  that  I  have  started  from  my  own  sleep,  fancy- 
ing a  ghost  before  me.  By  one  means  or  other  she  has 
wrought  herself  into  a  state  of  excitement  which,  if  not 
delirium,  is  akin  to  it.  I  was  again  and  again  struck 
down  by  the  fever,  and  all  the  Jesuits'  bark  in  America 
could  not  cure  me.  We  have  a  tobacco-liouse  and  some 
land  about  the  new  town  of  Richmond,  in  our  province, 
and  I  went  thither,  as  Williams})urg  is  no  wholesomer 
than  our  own  place ;  and  there  I  mended  a  little,  but  still 


172  THE  VIRGINIANS 

did  not  get  quite  well,  and  the  phj'^sicians  strongly  coun- 
selled a  sea-voyage.  My  mother,  at  one  time,  had 
thoughts  of  coming  with  me,  but "—  (and  here  the  lad 
blushed  and  hung  his  head  down)  —"we  did  not  agree 
very  well,  though  I  know  we  loved  each  other  very 
heartily,  and  'twas  determined  that  I  should  see  the  world 
for  myself.  So  I  took  passage  in  our  ship  from  the 
James  River,  and  was  landed  at  Bristol.  And  'twas 
only  on  the  9th  of  July,  this  year,  at  sea,  as  had  been 
agreed  between  me  and  Madam  Esmond,  that  I  put 
mourning  on  for  my  dear  brother." 

So  that  little  Mistress  of  the  Virginian  Castlewood, 
for  whom,  I  am  sure,  we  have  all  the  greatest  respect, 
had  the  knack  of  rendering  the  people  round  about  her 
uncomfortable ;  quarrelled  with  those  she  loved  best,  and 
exercised  over  them  her  wayward  jealousies  and  imperi- 
ous humours,  until  they  were  not  sorry  to  leave  her.  Here 
was  money  enough,  friends  enough,  a  good  position,  and 
the  respect  of  the  world ;  a  house  stored  with  all  manner 
of  plenty,  and  good  things,  and  poor  Harry  Warrington 
was  glad  to  leave  them  all  behind  him.  Happy!  Who 
is  happy?  What  good  in  a  stalled  ox  for  dinner  every 
day,  and  no  content  therewith  ?  Is  it  best  to  be  loved  and 
plagued  by  those  you  love,  or  to  have  an  easy,  comfort- 
able indifference  at  home;  to  follow  your  fancies,  live 
there  unmolested,  and  die  without  causing  any  painful 
regrets  or  tears? 

To  be  sure,  when  her  boy  was  gone,  Madam  Esmond 
forgot  all  these  little  tiffs  and  differences.  To  hear  her 
speak  of  both  her  children,  you  would  fancy  they  were 
perfect  characters,  and  had  never  caused  her  a  moment's 
worry  or  annoyance.    These  gone.  Madam  fell  naturally 


THE  VIRGINIANS  173 

upon  Mrs.  INIountain  and  her  little  daughter,  and  wor- 
ried and  annoyed  them.  But  women  bear  with  hard 
words  more  easily  than  men,  are  more  ready  to  forgive 
injuries,  or,  perhaps,  to  dissemble  anger.  Let  us  trust 
that  INIadam  Esmond's  dependants  found  their  life  tol- 
erable, that  they  gave  her  ladyship  sometimes  as  good 
as  they  got,  that  if  they  quarrelled  in  the  morning  they 
were  reconciled  at  night,  and  sat  down  to  a  tolerably 
friendly  game  at  cards  and  an  amicable  dish  of  tea. 

But,  without  the  boys,  the  great  house  of  Castlewood 
was  dreary  to  the  widow.  She  left  an  overseer  there  to 
manage  her  estates,  and  only  paid  the  place  an  occasional 
visit.  She  enlarged  and  beautified  her  house  in  the  pretty 
little  city  of  Richmond,  which  began  to  grow  daily  in 
importance.  She  had  company  there,  and  card  assem- 
blies, and  preachers  in  plenty;  and  set  up  her  little 
throne  there,  to  which  the  gentlefolks  of  the  province 
were  welcome  to  come  and  bow.  All  her  domestic 
negroes,  who  loved  society  as  negroes  will  do,  were  de- 
lighted to  exchange  the  solitude  of  Castlewood  for  the 
gay  and  merry  little  town ;  where,  for  a  time,  and  while 
we  pursue  Harry  Warrington's  progress  in  Europe,  we 
leave  the  good  lady. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


HARRY   IN   ENGLAND 


HEN  the  famous 
Trojan  wan- 
derer narrated 
his  escapes  and 
adventures  to 
Queen  Dido, 
her  Majesty,  as 
we  read,  took 
the  very  great- 
est interest  in 
the  fascinating 
story-teller  who 
J  told  his  perils  so 
eloquently.  A 
history  ensued, 
more  pathetic 
than  any  of  the 
previous  occurrences  in  the  life  of  Pius  ^neas,  and  the 
poor  princess  had  reason  to  rue  the  day  when  she  listened 
to  that  glib  and  dangerous  orator.  Harry  Warrington 
had  not  pious  ^neas's  power  of  speech,  and  his  elderly 
aunt,  we  may  presume,  was  by  no  means  so  soft-hearted 
as  the  sentimental  Dido ;  but  yet  the  lad's  narrative  was 
touching,  as  he  delivered  it  with  his  artless  eloquence  and 
cordial  voice;  and  more  than  once,  in  the  course  of  his 
story,  Madam  Bernstein  found  herself  moved  to  a  soft- 

174 


-l^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS  175 

ness  to  which  she  had  very  seldom  before  allowed  herself 
to  give  way.  There  were  not  many  fountains  in  that 
desert  of  a  life — not  many  sweet  refreshing  resting- 
places.  It  had  been  a  long  loneliness,  for  the  most  part, 
until  this  friendly  voice  came  and  sounded  in  her  ears 
and  caused  her  heart  to  beat  with  strange  pangs  of  love 
and  sympathy.  She  doted  on  this  lad,  and  on  this  sense 
of  compassion  and  regard  so  new  to  her.  Save  once, 
faintly,  in  very  very  early  youth,  she  had  felt  no  tender 
sentiment  for  any  human  being.  Such  a  woman  would, 
no  doubt,  watch  her  own  sensations  very  keenly,  and  must 
have  smiled,  after  the  appearance  of  this  boy,  to  mark 
how  her  pulses  rose  above  their  ordinary  beat.  She 
longed  after  him.  She  felt  her  cheeks  flush  with  happi- 
ness when  he  came  near.  Her  eyes  greeted  him  with 
welcome,  and  followed  him  with  fond  pleasure.  "  Ah, 
if  she  could  have  had  a  son  like  that,  how  she  would  have 
loved  him!  "  "  Wait,"  says  Conscience,  the  dark  scoffer 
mocking  within  her,  "  wait,  Beatrix  Esmond!  You  know 
you  will  weary  of  this  inclination,  as  you  have  of  all. 
You  know,  when  the  passing  fancy  has  subsided,  that 
the  boy  may  perish,  and  you  won't  have  a  tear  for  him ; 
or  talk,  and  you  weary  of  his  stories ;  and  that  your  lot 
in  life  is  to  be  lonely — lonely."  Well?  suppose  life  he 
a  desert?  There  are  halting-places  and  shades,  and  re- 
freshing waters ;  let  us  profit  by  them  for  to-day.  We 
know  that  we  must  march  when  to-morrow  comes,  and 
tramp  on  our  destiny  onward. 

She  smiled  inwardly,  whilst  following  the  lad's  narra- 
tive, to  recognize  in  his  simple  tales  about  his  mother 
traits  of  family  resemblance.  Madam  Esmond  was  very 
jealous?— Yes,  that  Harry  owned.  She  was  fond  of 
Colonel  Washington?     She  liked  him,  but  only  as  a 


176  THE  VIRGINIANS 

friend,  Harry  declared.  A  hundred  times  he  had  heard 
his  mother  vow  that  she  had  no  other  feehng  towards 
him.  He  was  ashamed  to  have  to  own  that  he  himself 
had  been  once  absurdly  jealous  of  the  Colonel.  "  Well, 
you  will  see  that  my  half-sister  will  never  forgive  him," 
said  JNIadam  Beatrix.  "  And  you  need  not  be  surprised, 
sir,  at  women  taking  a  fancy  to  men  younger  than  them- 
selves; for  don't  I  dote  upon  you;  and  don't  all  these 
Castlewood  people  crevent  with  jealousy?  " 

However  great  might  be  their  jealousy  of  Madame  de 
Bernstein's  new  favourite,  the  family  of  Castlewood  al- 
lowed no  feeling  of  ill  will  to  appear  in  their  language 
or  behaviour  to  their  young  guest  and  kinsman.  After 
a  couple  of  days'  stay  in  the  ancestral  house,  Mr.  Harry 
Warrington  had  become  Cousin  Harry  with  young  and 
middle-aged.  Especially  in  Madame  Bernstein's  pres- 
ence, the  Countess  of  Castlewood  was  most  gracious  to 
her  kinsman,  and  she  took  many  amiable  private  oppor- 
tunities of  informing  the  Baroness  how  charming  the 
young  Huron  was,  of  vaunting  the  elegance  of  his  man- 
ners and  appearance,  and  wondering  how,  in  his  distant 
province,  the  child  should  ever  have  learned  to  be  so 
polite. 

These  notes  of  admiration  or  interrogation,  the  Bar- 
oness took  with  equal  complacency.  (Speaking  paren- 
thetically, and,  for  his  own  part,  the  present  chronicler 
cannot  help  putting  in  a  little  respectful  remark  here, 
and  signifying  his  admiration  of  the  conduct  of  ladies 
towards  one  another,  and  of  the  things  which  they  say, 
which  they  forbear  to  say,  and  which  they  say  behind 
each  other's  backs.  With  what  smiles  and  curtsej^s  they 
stab  each  other!  with  what  compliments  they  hate  each 
other!   with  what  determination  of  long-suffering  they 


THE  VIRGINIANS  177 

won't  be  offended!  with  what  innocent  dexterity  they 
can  drop  the  drop  of  poison  into  the  cup  of  conversation, 
hand  round  the  goblet,  smihng,  to  the  whole  family  to 
drink,  and  make  the  dear  domestic  circle  miserable!)  — 
I  burst  out  of  my  parenthesis.  I  fancy  my  Baroness  and 
Countess  smiling  at  each  other  a  hundred  years  ago,  and 
giving  each  other  the  hand  or  the  cheek,  and  calling 
each  other,  My  dear.  My  dear  creature,  My  dear  Coun- 
tess, My  dear  Baroness,  My  dear  sister — even,  when 
they  were  most  ready  to  fight. 

"  You  wonder,  my  dear  Anna,  that  the  boy  should 
be  so  polite?"  cries  Madame  de  Bernstein.  "His 
mother  was  bred  up  by  two  very  perfect  gentlefolks. 
Colonel  Esmond  had  a  certain  grave  courteousness,  and 
a  grand  manner,  which  I  do  not  see  among  the  gentle- 
men now-a-days." 

"  Eh,  my  dear,  we  all  of  us  praise  our  own  time!  My 
grandmamma  used  to  declare  there  was  nothing  like 
Whitehall  and  Charles  the  Second." 

"  My  mother  saw  King  James  the  Second's  court  for 
a  short  while,  and  though  not  a  court-educated  person, 
as  you  know — her  father  was  a  country  clergyman — yet 
was  exquisitely  well  bred.  The  Colonel,  her  second  hus- 
band, was  a  person  of  great  travel  and  experience,  as 
well  as  of  learning,  and  had  frequented  the  finest  com- 
pany of  Europe.  They  could  not  go  into  their  retreat 
and  leave  their  good  manners  behind  them,  and  our  boy 
has  had  them  as  his  natural  inheritance." 

"  Nay,  excuse  me,  my  dear,  for  thinking  you  too  par- 
tial about  your  mother.  She  could  not  have  been  that 
perfection  which  your  filial  fondness  imagines.  She 
left  off  liking  her  daughter— my  dear  creature,  you 
have  owned  that  she  did  — and  I  cannot  fancy  a  com- 


178  THE  VIRGINIANS 

plete  woman  who  has  a  cold  heart.  No,  no,  my  dear 
sister-in-hiw !  INIanners  are  very  requisite,  no  doubt,  and, 
for  a  countrj^  parson's  daughter,  your  mamma  was  very 
well — I  have  seen  many  of  the  cloth  who  are  very  well. 
Mr.  Sampson,  our  chaplain,  is  very  well.  Dr.  Young  is 
very  well.  JNIr.  Dodd  is  very  well;  but  they  have  not 
the  true  air— as  how  should  they?  I  protest,  I  beg  par- 
don! I  forgot  my  lord  bishop,  your  ladyship's  first 
choice.  But,  as  I  said  before,  to  be  a  complete  woman, 
one  must  have,  what  you  have,  what  I  may  say,  and  bless 
heaven  for,  I  think  I  have— a  good  heart.  Without  the 
affections,  all  the  world  is  vanity,  my  love!  I  protest  I 
only  live,  exist,  eat,  drink,  rest,  for  my  sweet,  sweet  chil- 
dren!—for  my  wicked  Willy,  for  my  self-willed  Fanny, 
dear  naughty  loves !  "  ( She  rapturously  kisses  a  bracelet 
on  each  arm  which  contains  the  miniature  representations 
of  those  two  young  persons.  "Yes,  Mimi!  yes,  Fan- 
chon!  you  know  I  do,  you  dear,  dear  little  things!  and 
if  they  were  to  die,  or  you  were  to  die,  your  poor  mistress 
would  die,  too!"  Mimi  and  Fanchon,  two  quivering 
Italian  greyhounds,  jump  into  their  lady's  arms,  and 
kiss  her  hands,  but  respect  her  cheeks,  which  are  covered 
with  rouge.  "  No,  my  dear!  For  nothing  do  I  bless 
heaven  so  much  (though  it  puts  me  to  excruciating  tor- 
ture very  often)  as  for  having  endowed  me  with  sensi- 
bility and  a  feeling  heart!  " 

"  You  are  full  of  feeling,  dear  Anna,"  says  the  Bar- 
oness. "  You  are  celebrated  for  your  sensibility.  You 
must  give  a  little  of  it  to  our  American  nephew — cousin 
—  I  scarce  know  his  relationship." 

"  Nay,  I  am  here  but  as  a  guest  in  Castlewood  now. 
The  house  is  my  Lord  Castlewood's,  not  mine,  or  his 
lordship's  whenever  he  shall  choose  to  claim  it.     What 


A  Dancing  Lesson 


^^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS  179 

can  I  do  for  the  young  Virginian  that  has  not  been  done  ? 
He  is  charming.  Are  we  even  jealous  of  him  for  being 
so,  my  dear?  and  though  we  see  what  a  fancy  the  Bar- 
oness de  Bernstein  has  taken  for  him,  do  your  ladyship's 
nephews  and  nieces — your  real  nephews  and  nieces — cry 
out?  My  poor  children  might  be  mortified,  for  indeed, 
in  a  few  hours,  the  charming  young  man  has  made  as 
much  way  as  my  poor  things  have  been  able  to  do  in  all 
their  lives :  but  are  they  angry  ?  Willy  hath  taken  him 
out  to  ride.  This  morning,  was  not  Maria  playing  the 
harpsichord  whilst  my  Fanny  taught  him  the  minuet? 
'Twas  a  charming  young  group,  I  assure  you,  and  it 
brought  tears  into  my  eyes  to  look  at  the  young  crea- 
tures. Poor  lad !  we  are  as  fond  of  him  as  you  are,  dear 
Baroness! " 

Now,  Madame  de  Bernstein  had  happened,  through 
her  own  ears  or  her  maid's,  to  overhear  what  really  took 
place  in  consequence  of  this  harmless  little  scene.  Lady 
Castlewood  had  come  into  the  room  where  the  young 
people  were  thus  engaged  in  amusing  and  instructing 
themselves,  accompanied  by  her  son  William,  who  ar- 
rived in  his  boots  from  the  kennel. 

"  Bravi,  bravi!  Oh,  charming!"  said  the  Countess, 
clapping  her  hands,  nodding  with  one  of  her  best  smiles 
to  Harry  Warrington,  and  darting  a  look  at  his  partner, 
which  my  Lad}^  Fanny  perfectly  understood;  and  so, 
perhaps,  did  my  Lady  Maria  at  her  harpsichord,  for 
she  played  with  redoubled  energy,  and  nodded  her  wav- 
ing curls  over  the  chords. 

"  Infernal  young  Choctaw!  Is  he  teaching  Fanny 
the  war-dance?  and  is  Fan  going  to  try  her  tricks  upon 
him  now? "  asked  Mr.  William,  whose  temper  was  not 
of  the  best. 


180  THE  VIRGINIANS 

And  that  was  what  Lady  Castlewood's  look  said  to 
Fanny.  "  Are  you  going  to  try  your  tricks  upon  him 
now? " 

She  made  Harry  a  very  low  curtsey,  and  he  blushed, 
and  they  both  stopped  dancing,  somewhat  disconcerted. 
Lady  Maria  rose  from  the  harpsichord  and  walked  away. 

"  Nay,  go  on  dancing,  young  people!  Don't  let  me 
spoil  sport,  and  let  me  play  for  you,"  said  the  Countess; 
and  she  sat  down  to  the  instrument  and  played. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  dance,"  says  Harry,  hanging 
his  head  down,  with  a  blush  that  the  Countess's  finest 
carmine  could  not  equal. 

"  And  Fanny  was  teaching  j^ou?  Go  on  teaching  him, 
dearest  Fanny! " 

"  Go  on,  do!  "  says  William,  with  a  sidelong  growl. 

"I — I  had  rather  not  show  off  my  awkwardness  in 
company,"  adds  Harry,  recovering  himself.  "  When  I 
know  how  to  dance  a  minuet,  be  sure  I  will  ask  my 
cousin  to  walk  one  with  me." 

"  That  will  be  very  soon,  dear  Cousin  Warrington, 
I  am  certain,"  remarks  the  Countess,  with  her  most  gra- 
cious air. 

"  What  game  is  she  hunting  now?  "  thinks  Mr.  Wil- 
liam to  himself,  who  cannot  penetrate  his  mother's  ways ; 
and  that  lady,  fondly  calling  her  daughter  to  her  elbow, 
leaves  the  room. 

They  are  no  sooner  in  the  tapestried  passage  leading 
away  to  their  own  apartment,  but  Lady  Castlewood's 
bland  tone  entirely  changes.  "  You  booby!  "  she  begins 
to  her  adored  Fanny.  "  You  double  idiot!  What  are 
you  going  to  do  with  the  Huron?  You  don't  want  to 
marry  a  creature  like  that,  and  be  a  squaw  in  a  wig- 
wam? " 


THE  VIRGINIANS 


181 


"  Don't,  mamma !  "  gasped  Lady  Fanny.     Mamma 

was  pinching  her  ladyship's  arm  black  and  blue.    "  I  am 

sure  our  cousin  is  verj^  well,"  Fanny  whimpers,  "  and 

vou  said  so  yourself." 

^        "  Very  well!    Yes;   and  heir  to  a  swamj),  a  negro,  a 


log-cabin  and  a  barrel  of  tobacco!  My  Lady  Frances 
Esmond,  do  you  remember  what  your  ladyship's  rank  is, 
and  what  your  name  is,  and  who  was  your  ladyship's 
mother,  when,  at  three  days'  acquaintance,  you  com- 
mence dancing— a  pretty  dance,  indeed!— with  this  brat 
out  of  Virginia." 

"  Mr.  Warrington  is  our  cousin,"  pleads  Lady  Fanny. 


182  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  A  creature  come  from  nobody  knows  where  is  not 
your  cousin!  How  do  we  know  he  is  your  cousin?  He 
may  be  a  valet  who  has  taken  his  master's  portmanteau, 
and  run  away  in  his  post-chaise." 

"  But  JMadame  de  Bernstein  says  he  is  our  cousin," 
interposes  Fanny ;  "  and  he  is  the  image  of  the  Es- 
monds." 

"  Madame  de  Bernstein  has  her  hkes  and  dishkes, 
takes  up  people  and  forgets  people ;  and  she  chooses  to 
profess  a  mighty  fancy  for  this  young  man.  Because 
she  likes  him  to-day,  is  that  any  reason  why  she  should 
like  him  to-morrow?  Before  company,  and  in  your 
aunt's  presence,  your  ladyship  will  please  to  be  as  civil 
to  him  as  necessary;  but,  in  private,  I  forbid  you  to 
see  him  or  encourage  him." 

"  I  don't  care,  Madam,  whether  your  ladyship  forbids 
me  or  not!"  cries  out  Lady  Fanny,  wrought  up  to  a 
pitch  of  revolt. 

"  Very  good,  Fanny!  then  I  speak  to  my  lord,  and 
we  return  to  Kensington.  If  I  can't  bring  you  to  reason, 
your  brother  will." 

At  this  juncture  the  conversation  between  mother  and 
daughter  stopped,  or  Madame  de  Bernstein's  informer 
had  no  further  means  of  hearing  or  reporting  it. 

It  was  only  in  after-days  that  she  told  Harry  War- 
rington a  part  of  what  she  knew.  At  present  he  but 
saw  that  his  kinsfolk  received  him  not  unkindly.  Lady 
Castlewood  was  perfectly  civil  to  him ;  the  j'^oung  ladies 
pleasant  and  pleased;  my  Lord  Castlewood,  a  man  of 
cold  and  haughty  demeanour,  was  not  more  reserved  to- 
wards Harry  than  to  any  of  the  rest  of  the  family ;  Mr. 
William  was  ready  to  drink  with  him,  to  ride  with  him, 
to  go  to  races  with  him,  and  to  play  cards  with  him, 


THE  VIRGINIANS  183 

When  he  proposed  to  go  away,  they  one  and  all  pressed 
him  to  stay.  IMadame  de  Bernstein  did  not  tell  him 
how  it  arose  that  he  was  the  object  of  such  eager  hospi- 
tality. He  did  not  know  what  schemes  he  was  serving 
or  disarranging,  whose  or  what  anger  he  was  creating. 
He  fancied  he  was  welcome  because  those  around  him 
were  his  kinsmen,  and  never  thought  that  those  could  be 
his  enemies  out  of  whose  cup  he  was  drinking,  and  whose 
hand  he  was  pressing  every  night  and  morning. 


CHAPTER  XV 


A  SUNDAY   AT   CASTLEWOOD 


ipw^ 


HE  second  day  after 
Harry's  arrival  at 
Castlewood  was  a 
Sunday.  The  chapel 
appertaining  to  the 
castle  was  the  village 
church.  A  door  from 
the  house  communi- 
cated with  a  great 
state  pew  which  the 
family  occupied,  and 
here,  after  due  time, 
they  all  took  their 
places  in  order,  whilst 


a  rather  numerous  congregation  from  the  village  filled 
the  seats  below.  A  few  ancient  dusty  banners  hung  from 
the  church  roof;  and  Harry  pleased  himself  in  imagin- 
ing that  they  had  been  borne  by  retainers  of  his  family  in 
the  Commonwealth  wars,  in  which,  as  he  knew  well,  his 
ancestors  had  taken  a  loyal  and  distinguished  part. 
Within  the  altar-rails  was  the  effigy  of  the  Esmond  of 
the  time  of  King  James  the  First,  the  common  forefather 
of  all  the  group  assembled  in  the  family-pew.  Madame 
de  Bernstein,  in  her  quality  of  Bishop's  widow,  never 
failed  in  attendance,  and  conducted  her  devotions  with 
a  gravity  almost  as  exemplary  as  that  of  the  ancestor 

184 


THE  VIRGINIANS  185 

yonder,  in  his  square  beard  and  red  gown,  for  ever 
kneeling  on  his  stone  hassock  before  his  great  marble 
desk  and  book,  under  his  emblazoned  shield  of  arms. 
The  clergyman,  a  tall,  high-coloured,  handsome  young 
man,  read  the  service  in  a  lively,  agreeable  voice,  giving 
almost  a  dramatic  point  to  the  chapters  of  Scripture 
which  he  read.  The  music  was  good — one  of  the  young 
ladies  of  the  family  touching  the  organ — and  would  have 
been  better  but  for  an  interruption  and  something  like 
a  burst  of  laughter  from  the  servants'  pew,  which  was 
occasioned  by  INIr.  Warrington's  lacquey  Gumbo,  who, 
knowing  the  air  given  out  for  the  psalm,  began  to  sing 
it  in  a  voice  so  exceedingly  loud  and  sweet,  that  the  whole 
congregation  turned  towards  the  African  warbler;  the 
parson  himself  put  his  handkerchief  to  his  mouth,  and 
the  liveried  gentlemen  from  London  were  astonished 
out  of  all  propriety.  Pleased,  perhaps,  with  the  sensa- 
tion which  he  had  created,  JNIr.  Gumbo  continued  his 
performance  until  it  became  almost  a  solo,  and  the  voice 
of  the  clerk  himself  was  silenced.  For  the  truth  is,  that 
though  Gumbo  held  on  to  the  book,  along  with  pretty 
Molly,  the  porter's  daughter,  who  had  been  the  first  to 
welcome  the  strangers  to  Castlewood,  he  sang  and  recited 
by  ear  and  not  by  note,  and  could  not  read  a  syllable  of 
the  verses  in  the  book  before  him. 

This  choral  performance  over,  a  brief  sermon  in  due 
course  followed,  which,  indeed,  Harry  thought  a  deal 
too  short.  In  a  lively,  familiar,  striking  discourse  the 
clergyman  described  a  scene  of  which  he  had  been  wit- 
ness the  previous  week — the  execution  of  a  horse-stealer 
after  Assizes.  He  described  the  man  and  his  previous 
good  character,  his  family,  the  love  they  bore  one  an- 
other, and  his  agony  at  parting  from  them.    He  depicted 


186  THE  VIRGINIANS 

the  execution  in  a  manner  startling,  terrible  and  pictur- 
esque. He  did  not  introduce  into  his  sermon  the  Scrip- 
ture phraseology,  such  as  Harry  had  been  accustomed 
to  hear  from  those  somewhat  Calvinistic  preachers  whom 
his  mother  loved  to  frequent,  but  rather  spoke  as  one 
man  of  the  world  to  other  sinful  people,  who  might  be 
likely  to  profit  by  good  advice.  The  unhappy  man  just 
gone,  had  begun  as  a  farmer  of  good  prospects ;  he  had 
taken  to  drinking,  card-playing,  horse-racing,  cock-fight- 
ing, the  vices  of  the  age ;  against  which  the  young  clergy- 
man was  generously  indignant.  Then  he  had  got  to 
poaching  and  to  horse-stealing,  for  which  he  suffered. 
The  divine  rapidly  drew  striking  and  fearful  pictures  of 
these  rustic  crimes.  He  startled  his  hearers  by  showing 
that  the  Eye  of  the  Law  was  watching  the  poacher  at 
midnight,  and  setting  traps  to  catch  the  criminal.  He 
galloped  the  stolen  horse  over  highway  and  common, 
and  from  one  countj^  into  another,  but  showed  Retribu- 
tion ever  galloping  after,  seizing  the  malefactor  in  the 
country  fair,  carrying  him  before  the  justice,  and  never 
unlocking  his  manacles  till  he  dropped  them  at  the  gal- 
lows'-foot.  Heaven  be  pitiful  to  the  sinner!  The  cler- 
gyman acted  the  scene.  He  whispered  in  the  criminal's 
ear  at  the  cart.  He  dropped  his  handkerchief  on  the 
clerk's  head.  Harry  started  back  as  that  handkerchief 
dropped.  The  clergyman  had  been  talking  for  more 
than  twenty  minutes.  Harry  could  have  heard  him  for 
an  hour  more,  and  thought  he  had  not  been  five  minutes 
in  the  pulpit.  The  gentlefolks  in  the  great  pew  were 
very  much  enlivened  by  the  discourse.  Once  or  twice, 
Harry,  who  could  see  the  pew  where  the  house  servants 
sat,  remarked  these  very  attentive;  and  especially 
Gumbo,  his  own  man,  in  an  attitude  of  intense  conster- 


WJ. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  187 

nation.  But  the  smock-frocks  did  not  seem  to  heed,  and 
clamped  out  of  church  quite  unconcerned.  Gaffer 
Brown  and  Gammer  Jones  took  the  matter  as  it  came, 
and  the  rosy-cheeked,  red-cloaked  village  lasses  sat  under 
their  broad  hats  entirely  unmoved.  My  lord,  from  his 
pew,  nodded  slightly  to  the  clergyman  in  the  pulpit, 
when  that  divine's  head  and  wig  surged  up  from  the 
cushion. 

"  Sampson  has  been  strong  to-day,"  said  his  lordship. 
"  He  has  assaulted  the  Philistines  in  great  force." 

"  Beautiful,  beautiful!  "  says  Harry. 

*'  Bet  five  to  four  it  was  his  Assize  sermon.  He  has 
been  over  to  Winton  to  preach,  and  to  see  those  dogs," 
cries  William. 

The  organist  had  played  the  little  congregation  out 
into  the  sunshine.  Only  Sir  Francis  Esmond,  temp. 
Jac.  I.,  still  knelt  on  his  marble  hassock,  before  his 
prayer-book  of  stone.  Mr.  Sampson  came  out  of  his 
vestry  in  his  cassock,  and  nodded  to  the  gentlemen  still 
lingering  in  the  great  pew. 

"  Come  up,  and  tell  us  about  those  dogs,"  says  Mr. 
William,  and  the  divine  nodded  a  laughing  assent. 

The  gentlemen  passed  out  of  the  church  into  the  gal- 
lery of  their  house,  which  connected  them  with  that 
sacred  building.  Mr.  Sampson  made  his  way  through 
the  court,  and  presently  joined  them.  He  was  presented 
by  my  lord  to  the  Virginian  cousin  of  the  family,  Mr. 
Warrington:  the  chaplain  bowed  very  profoundly,  and 
hoped  Mr.  Warrington  would  benefit  by  the  virtuous 
example  of  his  European  kinsmen.  Was  he  related  to 
Sir  Miles  Warrington  of  Norfolk?  Sir  Miles  was  Mr. 
Warrington's  father's  elder  ])rotIier.  What  a  pity  lie  had 
a  son!     'Twas  a  pretty  estate,  and  Mr.  Warrington 


188  THE  VIRGINIANS 

looked  as  if  he  would  become  a  baronetcy,  and  a  fine 
estate  in  Norfolk. 

"  Tell  me  about  my  uncle,"  cried  Virginian  Harry. 

"  Tell  us  about  those  dogs!  "  said  English  Will,  in  a 
breath. 

"  Two  more  jolly  dogs,  two  more  drunken  dogs,  sav- 
ing your  presence  Mr.  Warrington,  than  Sir  Miles  and 
his  son,  I  never  saw.  Sir  Miles  was  a  staunch  friend  and 
neighbour  of  Sir  Robert's.  He  can  drink  down  any 
man  in  the  county,  except  his  son  and  a  few  more.  The 
other  dogs  about  which  Mr.  William  is  anxious,  for 
heaven  hath  made  him  a  prey  to  dogs  and  all  kinds  of 
birds,  like  the  Greeks  in  the  Iliad — " 

"  I  know  that  line  in  the  Iliad,"  says  Harry,  blushing. 
"  I  only  know  five  more,  but  I  know  that  one."  And 
his  head  fell.  He  was  thinking,  "  Ah,  my  dear  brother 
George  knew  all  the  Iliad  and  all  the  Odyssey,  and  al- 
most every  book  that  was  ever  written  besides!  " 

"  What  on  earth  "  (only  he  mentioned  a  place  under 
the  earth)  "are  3^ou  talking  about  now?"  asked  Will 
of  his  reverence. 

The  chaplain  reverted  to  the  dogs  and  their  perform- 
ance. He  thought  Mr.  William's  dogs  were  more  than 
a  match  for  them.  From  dogs  they  went  off  to  horses. 
Mr.  William  was  very  eager  about  the  Six  Year  Old 
Plate  at  Huntingdon.  "  Have  you  brought  any  news 
of  it,  Parson?  " 

"  The  odds  are  five  to  four  on  Brilliant  against  the 
field,"  says  the  Parson,  gravely,  "  but,  mind  you,  Jason 
is  a  good  horse." 

"  Whose  horse?  "  asks  mv  lord. 

"  Duke  of  Ancaster's.     By  Cartouche  out  of  Miss 


THE  VIRGINIANS  189 

Langle}^"  saj^s  the  divine.  "  Have  you  horse-races  in 
Virginia,  Mr.  Warrington?" 

"  Haven't  we!  "  cries  Harry;  "  but  oh!  I  long  to  see 
a  good  Enghsh  race!" 

"Do  5'ou— do  you — bet  a  Httle?"  continues  his  rev- 
erence. 

"  I  have  done  such  a  thing,"  rephes  Harry  with  a 
smile. 

"  I'll  take  Brilliant  even  against  the  field,  for  ponies 
with  you,  cousin!  "  shouts  out  Mr.  William. 

"  I'll  give  or  take  three  to  one  against  Jason!  "  says 
the  clergyman. 

"  I  don't  bet  on  horses  I  don't  know,"  said  Harrv, 
wondering  to  hear  the  chaplain  now,  and  remembering 
his  sermon  half  an  hour  before. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  write  home,  and  ask  your 
mother? "  says  JNIr.  William,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Will,  Will!  "  calls  out  my  lord,  "  our  cousin  War- 
rington is  free  to  bet,  or  not,  as  he  likes.  Have  a  care 
how  you  venture  on  either  of  them,  Harry  Warrington. 
Will  is  an  old  file,  in  spite  of  his  smooth  face,  and  as 
for  Parson  Sampson,  I  defy  our  ghostly  enemy  to  get 
the  better  of  him." 

"  Him  and  all  his  works,  my  lord!  "  said  Mr.  Samp- 
son, with  a  bow. 

Harry  was  highly  indignant  at  this  allusion  to  his 
mother.  "  I'll  tell  you  what,  Cousin  Will,"  he  said,  "  I 
am  in  the  habit  of  managing  my  own  affairs  in  my  own 
way,  without  asking  any  lady  to  arrange  them  for  me. 
And  I'm  used  to  make  my  own  bets  upon  my  own  judg- 
ment, and  don't  need  any  relations  to  select  them  for 
me,  thank  you.    But  as  I  am  your  guest,  and,  no  doubt. 


190  THE  VIRGINIANS 

you  want  to  show  me  hospitality,  I'll  take  your  bet — 
there.    And  so  Done  and  Done." 

"  Done,"  says  Will,  looking  askance. 

"  Of  course  it  is  the  regular  odds  that's  in  the  paper 
which  you  give  me,  cousin  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  it  isntr  growled  Will.  "  The  odds  are 
five  to  four,  that's  the  fact,  and  you  may  have  'em,  if  you 
like." 

"  Nay,  cousin,  a  bet  is  a  bet;  and  I  take  you,  too,  Mr. 
Sampson." 

"  Three  to  one  against  Jason.  I  lay  it.  Very  good," 
says  Mr.  Sampson. 

"  Is  it  to  be  ponies  too,  ]Mr.  Chaplain?  "  asks  Harry 
with  a  superb  air,  as  if  he  had  Lombard  Street  in  his 
pocket. 

"  No,  no.  Thirty  to  ten.  It  is  enough  for  a  poor 
priest  to  win." 

"  Here  goes  a  great  slice  out  of  my  quarter's  hun- 
dred," thinks  Harry.  "  Well,  I  shan't  let  these  Eng- 
lishmen fancy  that  I  am  afraid  of  them.  I  didn't  begin, 
but  for  the  honour  of  Old  Virginia  I  won't  go  back." 

These  pecuniary  transactions  arranged,  William  Es- 
mond went  away  scowling  towards  the  stables,  where  he 
loved  to  take  his  pipe  with  the  grooms ;  the  brisk  parson 
went  off  to  pay  his  court  to  the  ladies,  and  partake  of  the 
Sunday  dinner  which  would  presently  be  served.  Lord 
Castlewood  and  Harry  remained  for  a  while  together. 
Since  the  Virginian's  arrival  my  lord  had  scarcely  spoken 
with  him.  In  his  manners  he  was  perfectly  friendly,  but 
so  silent  that  he  would  often  sit  at  the  head  of  his  table, 
and  leave  it  without  uttering  a  word. 

"  I  suppose  yonder  property  of  yours  is  a  fine  one 
by  this  time?  "  said  my  lord  to  Harry. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  191 

*'  I  reckon  it's  almost  as  big  as  an  English  county," 
answered  Hariy,  "  and  the  land's  as  good,  too,  for  many 
things."  Harry  would  not  have  the  Old  Dominion,  nor 
his  share  in  it,  underrated. 

"  Indeed !  "  said  my  lord,  with  a  look  of  surprise. 
"  When  it  belonged  to  my  father  it  did  not  yield  much." 

"  Pardon  me,  m}^  lord.  You  know  how  it  belonged  to 
j^our  father,"  cried  the  youth  with  some  spirit.  "  It  was 
because  my  grandfather  did  not  choose  to  claim  his 
right."  ^ 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  says  my  lord,  hastily. 

"  I  mean,  cousin,  that  we  of  the  Virginian  house  owe 
you  nothing  but  our  own,"  continued  Harry  Warring- 
ton ;  "  but  our  own,  and  the  hospitality  which  you  are 
now  showing  me." 

"  You  are  heartily  welcome  to  both.  You  were  hurt 
by  the  betting  just  now?  " 

"  Well,"  replied  the  lad,  "  I  am  sort  o'  hurt.  Your 
welcome,  you  see,  is  different  to  our  welcome,  and  that's 
the  fact.  At  home  we  are  glad  to  see  a  man,  hold  out  a 
hand  to  him  and  give  him  of  our  best.  Here  you  take  us 
in,  give  us  beef  and  claret  enough,  to  be  sure,  and  don't 
seem  to  care  when  we  come,  or  when  we  go.  That's  the 
remark  which  I  have  been  making  since  I  have  been  in 
your  lordship's  house;  I  can't  help  telling  it  out,  you 
see,  now  'tis  on  my  mind;  and  I  think  I  am  a  little  easier 
now  I  have  said  it."  And  with  this  the  excited  young 
fellow  knocked  a  billiard-ball  across  the  table,  and  then 
laughed,  and  looked  at  his  elder  kinsman. 

"  A  la  bonne  heure!  We  are  cold  to  the  stranger 
within  and  without  our  gates.  We  don't  take  Mr.  Harry 

^  This  matter  is  discussed  in  the  Author's  previous  work,  "The 
Memoirs  of  Colonel  Esmond." 


192  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Warrington  into  our  arms,  and  cry  when  we  see  our 
cousin.  We  don't  cry  when  he  goes  away— but  do  we 
pretend? " 

"  No,  you  don't.  But  you  try  to  get  the  better  of  him 
in  a  bet,"  says  Harry,  indignantly. 

"  Is  there  no  such  practice  in  Virginia,  and  don't  sport- 
ing men  there  try  to  overreach  one  another?  What  was 
that  story  I  heard  you  telHng  our  aunt,  of  the  British 
officers  and  Tom  Somebody  of  Spotsylvania? " 

"  That's  fair!  "  cries  Harry.  "  That  is,  it's  usual  prac- 
tice, and  a  stranger  must  look  out.  I  don't  mind  the 
parson;  if  he  wins,  he  may  have,  and  welcome.  But  a 
relation!  To  think  that  my  own  blood  cousin  wants 
money  out  of  me!  " 

"  A  Newmarket  man  would  get  the  better  of  his 
father.  My  brother  has  been  on  the  turf  since  he  rode 
over  to  it  from  Cambridge.  If  you  play  at  cards  with 
him— and  he  will  if  you  will  let  him— he  will  beat  you  if 
he  can." 

"  Well,  I'm  ready,"  cries  Harry.  "  I'll  play  any 
game  with  him  that  I  know,  or  I'll  jump  with  him,  or 
I'll  ride  with  him,  or  I'll  row  with  him,  or  I'll  wrestle 
with  him,  or  I'll  shoot  with  him — there  now." 

The  senior  was  greatly  entertained,  and  held  out  his 
hand  to  the  boy.  "  Anything,  but  don't  fight  with  him," 
said  my  lord. 

"  If  I  do,  I'll  whip  him!  hanged  if  I  don't!  "  cried  the 
lad.  But  a  look  of  surprise  and  displeasure  on  the  noble- 
man's part  recalled  him  to  better  sentiments.  "  A  hun- 
dred pardons,  my  lord!  "  he  said,  blushing  very  red,  and 
seizing  his  cousin's  hand.  "  I  talked  of  ill  manners, 
being  angry  and  hurt  just  now;  but  'tis  doubly  ill  man- 
nered of  me  to  show  my  anger,  and  boast  about  my 


THE  VIRGINIANS  193 

prowess  to  my  own  host  and  kinsman.  It's  not  the  prac- 
tice with  us  Americans  to  boast,  believe  me,  it's  not." 

"  You  are  the  first  I  ever  met,"  says  my  lord,  with  a 
smile,  "  and  I  take  j^ou  at  your  word.  And  I  give  you 
'"^  fair  warning  about  the  cards,  and  the  betting,  that  is  all, 
my  boy." 

"  Leave  a  Virginian  alone!  We  are  a  match  for  most 
men,  we  are,"  resumed  the  boy. 

Lord  Castlewood  did  not  laugh.  His  eyebrows  only 
arched  for  a  moment,  and  his  grey  eyes  turned  towards 
the  ground.  "  So  you  can  bet  fifty  guineas  and  afford  to 
lose  them?  So  much  the  better  for  you,  cousin.  Those 
great  Virginian  estates  yield  a  great  revenue,  do  they?  " 

"  More  than  sufficient  for  all  of  us — for  ten  times  as 
many  as  we  are  now,"  replied  Harry.  ("What,  he  is 
pumping  me,"  thought  the  lad.) 

"  And  your  mother  makes  her  son  and  heir  a  hand- 
some allowance?  " 

"  As  much  as  ever  I  choose  to  draw,  my  lord!  "  cried 
Harry. 

"  Peste!  I  wish  I  had  such  a  mother!  "  cried  my  lord. 
"  But  I  have  only  the  advantage  of  a  step-mother,  and 
she  draws  on  me.  There  is  the  dinner-bell.  Shall  we  go 
into  the  eating-room?  "  And  taking  his  young  friend's 
arm,  my  lord  led  him  to  the  apartment  where  that  meal 
was  waiting. 

Parson  Sampson  formed  the  delight  of  the  enter- 
tainment, and  amused  the  ladies  with  a  luindred  agree- 
able stories.  Besides  being  chaplain  to  liis  lordship,  he 
was  a  preacher  in  Ijondon,  at  tlic  new  chapel  in  May 
Fair,  for  which  my  Lady  Whittlesea  (so  well  known  in 
the  reign  of  George  I.)  had  left  an  endowment.  He 
had  the  choicest  stories  of  all  the  clubs  and  coteries — 


194 


THE  VIRGINIANS 


the  very  latest  news  of  who  had  run  away  with  whom — 
the  last  bon-mot  of  JNIr.  Selwyn — the  last  wild  bet  of 
March  and  Rockingham.  He  knew  how  the  old  king 
had  quarrelled  with  IVIadame  Walmoden,  and  the  Duke 


was  suspected  of  having  a  new  love ;  who  was  in  favour 
at  Carlton  House  with  the  Princess  of  Wales ;  and  who 
was  hung  last  JNIonday,  and  how  well  he  behaved  in  the 
cart.  My  lord's  chaplain  poured  out  all  this  intelli- 
gence to  the  amused  ladies  and  the  delighted  young 
provincial,  seasoning  his  conversation  with  such  plain 
terms  and  livety  jokes  as  made  Harry  stare,  who  was 
newly  arrived  from  the  colonies,  and  unused  to  the  ele- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  195 

gancies  of  London  life.  The  ladies,  old  and  young, 
laughed  quite  cheerfulh^  at  the  lively  jokes.  Do  not 
be  frightened,  ye  fair  readers  of  the  present  day!  We 
are  not  going  to  outrage  your  sweet  modesties,  or  call 
blushes  on  your  maiden  cheeks.  But  'tis  certain  that 
their  ladyships  at  Castlewood  never  once  thought  of 
being  shocked,  but  sat  listening  to  the  parson's  funny 
tales  until  the  chapel  bell,  clinking  for  afternoon  service, 
summoned  his  reverence  away  for  half-an-hour.  There 
was  no  sermon.  He  would  be  back  in  the  drinking  of  a 
bottle  of  Burgundy.  Mr.  Will  called  a  fresh  one,  and 
the  chaplain  tossed  off  a  glass  ere  he  ran  out. 

Ere  the  half -hour  was  over,  Mr.  Chaplain  was  back 
again  bawling  for  another  bottle.  This  discussed,  they 
joined  the  ladies,  and  a  couple  of  card -tables  were  set 
out,  as,  indeed,  they  were  for  many  hours  every  day,  at 
which  the  whole  of  the  family  party  engaged.  Madame 
de  Bernstein  could  beat  any  one  of  her  kinsfolk  at  pic- 
quet,  and  there  was  only  Mr.  Chaplain  in  the  whole 
circle  who  was  at  all  a  match  for  her  ladyship. 

In  this  easy  manner  the  Sabbath  day  passed.  The 
evening  was  beautiful,  and  there  was  talk  of  adjourning 
to  a  cool  tankard  and  a  game  of  whist  in  a  summer- 
house  ;  but  the  company  voted  to  sit  in  doors,  the  ladies 
declaring  they  thought  the  aspect  of  three  honours  in 
their  hand,  and  some  good  court  cards,  more  beautiful 
than  the  loveliest  scene  of  nature;  and  so  the  sun  went 
behind  the  elms,  and  still  they  were  at  their  cards ;  and 
the  rooks  came  home  cawing  their  even  song,  and  they 
never  stirred  except  to  change  partners;  and  the  chapel 
clock  tolled  hour  after  hour  unlieeded,  so  delightfully 
were  they  s])ent  over  the  pasteboard;  and  the  moon 
and  stars  came  out;    and  it  was  nine  o'clock,  and  the 


196  THE  VIRGINIANS 

groom  of  the  chambers  announced  that  supper  was 
ready. 

Whilst  they  sat  at  that  meal,  the  postboy's  twanging 
horn  was  heard,  as  he  trotted  into  the  village  with  his 
letter-bag.  My  lord's  bag  was  brought  in  presently 
from  the  village,  and  his  letters,  which  he  put  aside,  and 
his  newspaper,  which  he  read.  He  smiled  as  he  came  to 
a  paragraph,  looked  at  his  Virginian  cousin,  and  handed 
the  paper  over  to  his  brother  Will,  who  by  this  time  was 
very  comfortable,  having  had  pretty  good  luck  all  the 
evening,  and  a  great  deal  of  liquor. 

"  Read  that,  Will,"  says  my  lord. 

Mr.  William  took  the  paper,  and,  reading  the  sentence 
pointed  out  by  his  brother,  uttered  an  exclamation  which 
caused  all  the  ladies  to  cry  out. 

"  Gracious  heavens,  William!  What  has  happened?  " 
cries  one  or  the  other  fond  sister. 

"  Mercy,  child,  why  do  you  swear  so  dreadfully?  " 
asks  the  young  man's  fond  mamma. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  inquires  Madame  de  Bernstein, 
who  has  fallen  into  a  doze  after  her  usual  modicum  of 
punch  and  beer. 

"  Read  it.  Parson!  "  says  Mr.  William,  thrusting  the 
paper  over  to  the  chaplain,  and  looking  as  fierce  as  a 
Turk. 

"  Bit,  by  the  Lord!  "  roars  the  chaplain,  dashing  down 
the  paper. 

"  Cousin  Harry,  you  are  in  luck,"  said  my  lord,  taking 
up  the  sheet,  and  reading  from  it.  "  The  Six  Year  Old 
Plate  at  Huntingdon  was  won  by  Jason,  beating  Bril- 
liant, Pytho,  and  Ginger.  The  odds  were  five  to  four 
on  Brilliant  against  the  field,  three  to  one  against  Jason, 
seven  to  two  against  Pytho,  and  twenty  to  one  against 
Ginger." 


THE  VIRGINIANS  197 

"  I  owe  }"0u  a  half-year's  income  of  my  poor  living, 
]Mr.  Warrington,"  groaned  the  parson.  "  I  will  jjay 
when  my  noble  patron  settles  with  me." 

"  A  curse  upon  the  luck!  "  growls  Mr.  William;  "  that 
?^  comes  of  betting  on  a  Sunday," — and  he  sought  con- 
solation in  another  great  bumper. 

"  Nay,  Cousin  Will.  It  was  but  in  jest,"  cried  Harry. 
"  I  can't  think  of  taking  my  cousin's  money." 

"  Curse  me,  sir,  do  you  suppose,  if  I  lose,  I  can't 
pay?  "  asks  Mr.  William;  "  and  that  I  want  to  be  be- 
holden to  any  man  alive?  That  is  a  good  joke.  Isn't 
it,  Parson? " 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  better,"  said  the  clergyman;  to 
which  William  replied,  "  Hang  it,  let  us  have  another 
bowl." 

Let  us  hope  the  ladies  did  not  wait  for  this  last  re- 
plenishment of  liquor,  for  it  is  certain  they  had  had 
plenty  already  during  the  evening. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


IN    WHICH    GUMBO    SHOWS    SKILL    WITH    THE    OLD 
ENGLISH    WEAPON 

UR  young  Virginian  having  won  these 
sums  of  money  from  his  cousin  and 
the  chaplain,  was  in  duty  bound  to 
give  them  a  chance  of  recovering 
their  money,  and  I  am  afraid  his 
mamma  and  other  sound  moral- 
ists would  scarcely  approve  of 
his  way  of  life.  He  played  at 
cards  a  great  deal  too  much.  Be- 
sides the  daily  whist  or  quadrille 
with  the  ladies,  which  set  in  soon 
after  dinner  at  three  o'clock, 
and  lasted  until  supper  time, 
there  occurred  games  involving 
the  gain  or  loss  of  very  considerable  sums  of  money,  in 
which  all  the  gentlemen,  my  lord  included,  took  part. 
Since  their  Sunday's  conversation,  his  lordship  was  more 
free  and  confidential  with  his  kinsman  than  he  had  pre- 
viously been,  betted  with  him  quite  affably,  and  en- 
gaged him  at  backgammon  and  picquet.  Mr.  William 
and  the  pious  chaplain  liked  a  little  hazard ;  though  this 
diversion  was  enjoyed  on  the  sly,  and  unknown  to  the 
ladies  of  the  house,  who  had  exacted  repeated  promises 
from  Cousin  Will,  that  he  would  not  lead  the  Virginian 
into  mischief,  and  that  he  would  himself  keep  out  of  it. 

198 


THE  VIRGINIANS  199 

So  Will  promised  as  much  as  his  aunt  or  his  mother  chose 
to  demand  from  him,  gave  them  his  word  that  he  would 
never  play — no,  never;  and  when  the  family  retired  to 
rest,  INIr.  Will  would  walk  over  with  a  dice-box  and  a 
rum-bottle  to  Cousin  Harry's  quarters,  where  he,  and 
Hal,  and  his  reverence  would  sit  and  play  until  day- 
light. 

When  Harry  gave  to  Lord  Castlewood  those  flourish- 
ing descriptions  of  the  maternal  estate  in  America,  he 
had  not  wished  to  mislead  his  kinsman,  or  to  boast,  or  to 
tell  falsehoods,  for  the  lad  was  of  a  very  honest  and 
truth-telling  nature ;  but,  in  his  life  at  home,  it  must  be 
owned  that  the  j^oung  fellow  had  had  acquaintance  with 
all  sorts  of  queer  company, — horse- jockeys,  tavern 
loungers,  gambling  and  sporting  men,  of  whom  a  great 
number  were  found  in  his  native  colony.  A  landed  aris- 
tocracy, with  a  population  of  negroes  to  work  their  fields, 
and  cultivate  their  tobacco  and  corn,  had  little  other  way 
of  amusement  than  in  the  hunting-field,  or  over  the  cards 
and  the  punch-bowl.  The  hospitality  of  the  province 
was  unbounded :  every  man's  house  was  his  neighbour's ; 
and  the  idle  gentlefolks  rode  from  one  mansion  to  an- 
other, finding  in  each  pretty  much  the  same  sport — wel- 
come, and  rough  plenty.  The  Virginian  Squire  had 
often  a  bare-footed  valet,  and  a  cobbled  saddle;  but 
there  was  plenty  of  corn  for  the  horses,  and  abundance 
of  drink  and  venison  for  the  master  within  tlie  tumble- 
down fences,  and  behind  the  cracked  windows  of  the  hall. 
Harry  had  slept  on  many  a  straw  mattress,  and  engaged 
in  endless  jolly  night-bouts  over  claret  and  punch  in 
cracked  bowls  till  morning  came,  and  it  was  time  to  fol- 
low the  hounds.  His  poor  brother  was  of  a  much  more 
sober  sort,  as  the  lad  owned  with  contrition.     So  it  is 


200  THE  VIRGINIANS 

that  Nature  makes  folks;  and  some  love  books  and  tea, 
and  some  like  Burgundy  and  a  gallop  across  country. 
Our  j'oung  fellow's  tastes  were  speedily  made  visible 
to  his  friends  in  England.  None  of  them  were  partial 
to  the  Puritan  discipline;  nor  did  they  like  Harry  the 
worse  for  not  being  the  least  of  a  milksop.  INIanners, 
you  see,  were  looser  a  hundred  years  ago ;  tongues  were 
vastly  more  free  and  easy;  names  were  named,  and 
things  were  done,  which  we  should  screech  now  to  hear 
mentioned.  Yes,  Madam,  we  are  not  as  our  ancestors 
were.  Ought  we  not  to  thank  the  Fates  that  have  im- 
proved our  morals  so  prodigiously,  and  made  us  so 
eminently  virtuous? 

So,  keeping  a  shrewd  keen  eye  upon  people  round 
about  him,  and  fancying,  not  incorrectly,  that  his  cousins 
were  disposed  to  pump  him,  Harry  Warrington  had 
thought  fit  to  keep  his  own  counsel  regarding  his  own 
affairs,  and  in  all  games  of  chance  or  matters  of  sport 
was  quite  a  match  for  the  three  gentlemen  into  whose 
company  he  had  fallen.  Even  in  the  noble  game  of 
billiards  he  could  hold  his  own  after  a  few  days'  play 
with  his  cousins  and  their  revered  pastor.  His  grand- 
father loved  the  game,  and  had  over  from  Europe  one 
of  the  very  few  tables  which  existed  in  his  Majesty's 
province  of  Virginia.  Nor  though  Mr.  Will  could  beat 
him  at  the  commencement,  could  he  get  undue  odds  out 
of  the  young  gamester.  After  their  first  bet,  Harry  was 
on  his  guard  with  Mr.  Will,  and  cousin  William  owned, 
not  without  respect,  that  the  American  was  his  match 
in  most  things,  and  his  better  in  many.  But  though 
Harry  played  so  well  that  he  could  beat  the  parson, 
and  soon  was  the  equal  of  Will,  who  of  course  could 
beat  both  the  girls,  how  came  it,  that  in  the  contests  with 


THE  VIRGINIANS  201 

these,  especially  with  one  of  them,  Mr.  Warrington 
frequently  came  off  second?  He  was  profoundly  cour- 
teous to  every  being  who  wore  a  petticoat :  nor  has  that 
^  traditional  politeness  yet  left  his  country.  All  the 
''  women  of  the  Castlewood  establishment  loved  the  young 
gentleman.  The  grim  housekeeper  was  mollified  by  him : 
the  fat  cook  greeted  him  with  blowsy  smiles ;  the  ladies'- 
maids,  whether  of  the  French  or  the  English  nation, 
smirked  and  giggled  in  his  behalf;  the  pretty  porter's 
daughter  at  the  lodge  had  always  a  kind  word  in  reply 
to  his.  Madame  de  Bernstein  took  note  of  all  these 
things,  and,  though  she  said  nothing,  watched  carefully 
the  boy's  disposition  and  behaviour. 

Who  can  say  how  old  Lady  JNIaria  Esmond  was? 
Books  of  the  Peerage  were  not  so  many  in  those  days 
as  they  are  in  our  blessed  times,  and  I  cannot  tell  to  a 
few  years,  or  even  a  lustre  or  two.  When  Will  used  to 
say  she  was  five-and-thirty,  he  was  abusive,  and,  besides, 
was  alwaj^s  given  to  exaggeration.  Maria  was  Will's 
half  sister.  She  and  my  lord  were  children  of  the  late 
Lord  Castlewood's  first  wife,  a  German  lady,  whom,  'tis 
known,  my  lord  married  in  the  time  of  Queen  Anne's 
wars.  Baron  Bernstein,  who  married  Maria's  Aunt 
Beatrix,  Bishop  Tusher's  widow,  was  also  a  German, 
a  Hanoverian  nobleman,  and  relative  of  the  first  Lady 
Castlewood.  If  my  Lady  Maria  was  born  under  George 
I.,  and  his  Majesty  George  II.  had  been  thirty  years  on 
the  throne,  how  could  slie  be  seven-and-twenty,  as  she 
told  Harry  Warrington  slie  was?  "  I  am  old,  child," 
she  used  to  say.  She  used  to  call  Harry  "  child  "  when 
they  were  alone.  "  I  am  a  hundred  years  old.  I  am 
seven-and-twenty.  I  might  l)e  your  mother  almost." 
To  which  Harry  would  reply,  "  Your  ladyship  might 


202  THE  VIRGINIANS 

be  the  mother  of  all  the  cupids,  I  am  sure.  You  don't 
look  twenty,  on  my  word  j^ou  do  not!  " 

Lady  INIaria  looked  any  age  you  liked.  She  was  a 
fair  beauty  with  a  dazzling  white  and  red  complexion, 
an  abundance  of  fair  hair  which  flowed  over  her  shoul- 
ders, and  beautiful  round  arms  which  showed  to  uncom- 
mon advantage  when  she  played  at  billiards  with  Cousin 
Harry.  When  she  had  to  stretch  across  the  table  to 
make  a  stroke,  that  youth  caught  glimpses  of  a  little 
ankle,  a  little  clocked  stocking,  and  a  little  black  satin 
slipper  with  a  little  red  heel,  which  filled  him  with  un- 
utterable rapture,  and  made  him  swear  that  there  never 
was  such  a  foot,  ankle,  clocked  stocking,  satin  slipper 
in  the  w^orld.  And  yet,  O  you  foolish  Harry!  your 
mother's  foot  was  ever  so  much  more  slender,  and  half 
an  inch  shorter,  than  Lady  Maria's.  But,  somehow,  boys 
do  not  look  at  their  mammas'  slippers  and  ankles  with 
rapture. 

No  doubt  Lady  INIaria  was  very  kind  to  Harry  when 
they  were  alone.  Before  her  sister,  aunt,  stepmother,  she 
made  light  of  him,  calling  him  a  simpleton,  a  chit,  and 
who  knows  what  trivial  names?  Behind  his  back,  and 
even  before  his  face,  she  mimicked  his  accent,  which 
smacked  somewhat  of  his  province.  Harry  blushed  and 
corrected  the  faulty  intonation,  under  his  English  moni- 
tresses.  His  aunt  pronounced  that  they  would  soon 
make  him  a  pretty  fellow. 

Lord  Castlewood,  we  have  said,  became  daily  more 
familiar  and  friendly  with  his  guest  and  relative.  Till 
the  crops  were  off  the  ground  there  was  no  sporting,  ex- 
cept an  occasional  cock -match  at  Winchester,  and  a  bull- 
baiting  at  Hexton  Fair.  Harry  and  Will  rode  off  to 
many  jolly  fairs  and  races  round  about:    the  young 


THE  VIRGINIANS  203 

Virginian  was  presented  to  some  of  the  countj^  families — 
the  Henleys  of  the  Grange,  the  Crawleys  of  Queen's 
Crawley,  the  Redmaynes  of  Lionsden,  and  so  forth.  The 
neighbours  came  in  their  great  heavy  coaches,  and  passed 
two  or  three  days  in  countrj^  fashion.  INIore  of  them 
would  have  come,  but  for  the  fear  all  the  Castlewood 
family  had  of  offending  IMadame  de  Bernstein.  She 
did  not  like  country  company;  the  rustical  society  and 
conversation  annoyed  her.  "  We  shall  be  merrier  when 
my  aunt  leaves  us,"  the  young  folks  owned.  "  We  have 
cause,  as  j^ou  may  imagine,  for  being  very  civil  to  her. 
You  know  what  a  favourite  she  was  with  our  papa  ?  And 
with  reason.  She  got  him  his  earldom,  being  very  well 
indeed  at  court  at  that  time  with  the  King  and  Queen. 
She  commands  here  naturally,  perhaps  a  little  too  much. 
We  are  all  afraid  of  her:  even  my  elder  brother  stands 
in  awe  of  her,  and  my  stepmother  is  much  more  obedient 
to  her  than  she  ever  was  to  my  papa,  whom  she  ruled 
with  a  rod  of  iron.  But  Castlewood  is  merrier  when  our 
aunt  is  not  here.  At  least  we  have  much  more  company. 
Vou  will  come  to  us  in  our  gay  days,  Harry,  won't  you? 
Of  course  you  will:  this  is  your  home,  sir.  I  was  so 
pleased — oh,  so  pleased — when  my  brother  said  he  con- 
sidered it  was  your  home!  " 

A  soft  hand  is  held  out  after  this  pretty  speech,  a 
pair  of  very  well-preserved  blue  eyes  look  exceedingly 
friendly.  Harry  grasps  his  cousin's  hand  with  ardour. 
I  do  not  know  what  privilege  of  cousinshi])  he  would 
not  like  to  claim,  only  he  is  so  timid.  They  call  the  Eng- 
lish selfish  and  cold.  He  at  first  thought  his  relatives 
were  so:  but  how  mistaken  he  was!  How  kind  and 
affectionate  they  are,  especially  the  Karl,  and  dear,  dear 
Maria !    How  he  wishes  he  could  recall  that  letter  which 


204  THE  VIRGINIANS 

he  had  written  to  JNIrs.  IMoimtain  and  his  mother,  in 
which  he  hinted  that  his  welcome  had  been  a  cold  one! 
The  Earl  his  cousin  was  everj^thing  that  was  kind,  had 
promised  to  introduce  him  to  London  society,  and  pre- 
sent him  at  Court,  and  at  White's.  He  was  to  consider 
Castlewood  as  his  English  home.  He  had  been  most 
hasty  in  his  judgment  regarding  his  relatives  in  Hamp- 
shire. All  this,  with  many  contrite  expressions,  he  wrote 
in  his  second  despatch  to  Virginia.  And  he  added,  for 
it  hath  been  hinted  that  the  young  gentleman  did  not 
spell  at  this  early  time  with  especial  accuracy,  "  My 
cousin,  the  Lady  Maria,  is  a  perfect  Angle." 

"  Ille  prceter  omnes  angulus  ridet,"  muttered  little 
]Mr.  Dempster,  at  home  in  Virginia. 

"  The  child  can't  be  falling  in  love  with  his  angle,  as 
he  calls  her!  "  cries  out  Mountain. 

"  Pooh,  pooh !  my  niece  Maria  is  forty !  "  says  Madam 
Esmond.  "  I  perfectly  well  recollect  her  when  I  was 
at  home — a  great  gawky  carrot^^  creature,  with  a  foot 
like  a  pair  of  bellows."  Where  is  truth,  forsooth,  and 
who  knoweth  it?  Is  Beauty  beautiful,  or  is  it  only  our 
eyes  that  make  it  so?  Does  Venus  squint?  Has  she  got 
a  splaj^-foot,  red  hair,  and  a  crooked  back?  Anoint 
my  eyes,  good  Fairy  Puck,  so  that  I  may  ever  consider 
the  Beloved  Object  a  paragon!  Above  all,  keep  on 
anointing  my  mistress's  dainty  peepers  with  the  very 
strongest  ointment,  so  that  my  noddle  may  ever  appear 
lovely  to  her,  and  that  she  may  continue  to  crown  my 
honest  ears  with  fresh  roses! 

Now,  not  only  was  Harry  Warrington  a  favourite 
with  some  in  the  drawing-room,  and  all  the  ladies  of 
the  servants'-hall,  but,  like  master  like  man,  his  valet 
Gumbo  was  very  much  admired  and  respected  by  very 


Gumbo  Astonishea  the 
Servants'  Hall 


THE  VIRGINIANS  205 

many  of  the  domestic  circle.  Gumbo  had  a  hundred 
accomplisliments.  He  was  famous  as  a  fisherman,  hunts- 
man, blacksmith.  He  could  dress  hair  beautifully,  and 
,^mproved  himself  in  the  art  under  my  lord's  own  Swiss 
gentleman.  He  was  great  at  cooking  many  of  his  Vir- 
ginian dishes,  and  learned  many  new  culinary  secrets 
from  my  lord's  French  man.  We  have  heard  how  ex- 
quisitely and  melodiously  he  sang  at  church;  and  he 
sang  not  only  sacred  but  secular  music,  often  inventing 
airs  and  composing  rude  words  after  the  habit  of  his 
people.  He  played  the  fiddle  so  charmingly,  that  he 
set  all  the  girls  dancing  in  Castlewood  hall,  and  was  ever 
welcome  to  a  gratis  mug  of  ale  at  the  "  Three  Castles  " 
in  the  village,  if  he  would  but  bring  his  fiddle  with  him. 
He  was  good-natured  and  loved  to  play  for  the  village 
children:  so  that  Mr.  Warrington's  negro  was  a  uni- 
versal favourite  in  all  the  Castlewood  domain. 

Now  it  was  not  difficult  for  the  servants'-hall  folks  to 
perceive  that  Mr.  Gumbo  was  a  liar,  which  fact  was  un- 
doubted in  spite  of  all  his  good  qualities.  For  instance, 
that  day  at  church,  when  he  pretended  to  read  out  of 
Molly's  psalm-book,  he  sang  quite  other  words  than  those 
which  were  down  in  the  book,  of  which  he  could  not  de- 
cipher a  syllable.  And  he  pretended  to  understand  mu- 
sic, whereupon  the  Swiss  valet  brought  him  some,  and 
INIaster  Gumbo  turned  the  page  upside  down.  These 
instances  of  long-bow  practice  daily  occurred,  and  were 
patent  to  all  the  Castlewood  household.  They  knew 
Gumbo  was  a  liar,  perhaps  not  thinking  the  worse  of  him 
for  this  weakness;  but  they  did  not  know  how  great  a 
liar  he  was,  and  believed  him  much  more  than  they  had 
any  reason  for  doing,  and  because,  I  suppose,  they  liked 
to  believe  him. 


206  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Whatever  might  be  his  feehngs  of  wonder  and  envy 
on  first  viewing  the  splendour  and  comforts  of  Castle- 
wood,  Mr.  Gumbo  kept  his  sentiments  to  himself  and 
examined  the  place,  park,  appointments,  stables,  very 
coolly.  The  horses,  he  said,  were  very  well,  what  there 
were  of  them ;  but  at  Castlewood  in  Virginia  they  had 
six  times  as  many,  and  let  me  see,  fourteen  eighteen 
grooms  to  look  after  them.  INIadam  Esmond's  carriages 
were  much  finer  than  my  lord's, — great  deal  more  gold 
on  the  panels.  As  for  her  gardens,  they  covered  acres, 
and  they  grew  every  kind  of  flower  and  fruit  under 
the  sun.  Pine-apples  and  peaches?  Pine-apples  and 
peaches  were  so  common,  they  were  given  to  pigs  in  his 
country.  They  had  twenty  forty  gardeners,  not  white 
gardeners,  all  black  gentlemen,  like  hisself.  In  the 
house  were  twenty  forty  gentlemen  in  livery,  besides 
women-servants, — never  could  remember  how  many 
women-servants, — dere  were  so  many:  tink  dere  were 
fifty  women-servants, — all  Madam  Esmond's  property, 
and  worth  ever  so  many  hundred  pieces  of  eight  apiece. 
How  much  was  a  piece  of  eight?  Bigger  than  a  guinea, 
a  piece  of  eight  was.  Tink,  Madam  Esmond  have 
twenty  thirty  thousand  guineas  a  year, — have  whole 
rooms  full  of  gold  and  plate.  Come  to  England  in  one 
of  her  ships;  have  ever  so  many  ships.  Gumbo  can't 
count  how  many  ships;  and  estates,  covered  all  over 
with  tobacco  and  negroes,  and  reaching  out  for  a  week's 
journey.  Was  Master  Harry  heir  to  all  this  property? 
Of  course,  now  Master  George  was  killed  and  scalped 
by  the  Indians.  Gumbo  had  killed  ever  so  many  Indi- 
ans, and  tried  to  save  Master  George,  but  he  was  Master 
Harry's  boy, — and  Master  Harry  was  as  rich, — oh,  as 
rich  as  ever  he  like.    He  wore  black  now,  because  Mas- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  207 

ter  George  was  dead ;  but  5^011  should  see  his  chests  full 
of  gold  clothes,  and  lace,  and  jewels  at  Bristol.  Of 
course,  blaster  Harry  was  the  richest  man  in  all  Vir- 
^^inia,  and  might  have  twenty  sixty  servants;  only  he 
liked  travelling  with  one  best,  and  that  one,  it  need 
scarcely  be  said,  was  Gumbo. 

This  story  was  not  invented  at  once,  but  gradually 
elicited  from  ]Mr.  Gumbo,  who  might  have  uttered  some 
trifling  contradictions  during  the  progress  of  the  narra- 
tive, but  by  the  time  he  had  told  his  tale  twice  or  thrice 
in  the  servants'-hall  or  the  butler's  private  apartment, 
he  was  pretty  perfect  and  consistent  in  his  part,  and 
knew  accuratel}^  the  number  of  slaves  INIadam  Esmond 
kept,  and  the  amount  of  income  which  she  enjoyed.  The 
truth  is,  that  as  four  or  five  blacks  are  required  to  do 
the  work  of  one  white  man,  the  domestics  in  American 
establishments  are  much  more  numerous  than  in  ours; 
and  like  the  houses  of  most  other  Virginian  landed 
proprietors,  ]\Iadam  Esmond's  mansion  and  stables 
swarmed  with  negroes. 

IMr.  Gumbo's  account  of  his  mistress's  wealth  and 
splendour  was  carried  to  my  lord  by  his  lordship's  man, 
and  to  jNIadame  de  Bernstein  and  my  ladies  by  their 
respective  waiting-women,  and,  we  may  be  sure,  lost 
nothing  in  the  telling.  A  young  gentleman  in  England 
is  not  the  less  liked  because  he  is  reputed  to  be  the  heir 
to  vast  wealth  and  possessions ;  when  Lady  Castlewood 
came  to  hear  of  Harry's  prodigious  expectations,  she 
repented  of  her  first  cool  reception  of  him,  and  of  having 
pinched  her  daughter's  arm  till  it  was  black  and  blue  for 
having  been  extended  towards  the  youth  in  too  friendly 
a  manner.  Was  it  too  late  to  have  him  back  into  those 
fair  arms?     I^ady  Fanny  was  welcome  to  try,  and  re- 


208  THE  VIRGINIANS 

sumed  the  dancing-lessons.  The  Countess  would  play 
the  music  with  all  her  heart.  But,  how  provoking!  that 
odious,  sentimental  Maria  would  always  insist  upon  be- 
ing in  the  room;  and,  as  sure  as  Fanny  walked  in  the 
gardens  or  the  park,  so  sure  would  her  sister  come  trail- 
ing after  her.  As  for  JNIadame  de  Bernstein,  she 
laughed,  and  was  amused  at  the  stories  of  the  prodigious 
fortune  of  her  Virginian  relatives.  She  knew  her  half- 
sister's  man  of  business  in  London,  and  very  likely  was 
aware  of  the  real  state  of  Madam  Esmond's  monej^  mat- 
ters; but  she  did  not  contradict  the  rumours  which 
Gumbo  and  his  fellow-servants  had  set  afloat;  and  was 
not  a  little  diverted  by  the  effect  which  these  reports  had 
upon  the  behaviour  of  the  Castlewood  family  towards 
their  young  kinsman. 

"  Hang  him!  Is  he  so  rich,  Molly?  "  said  my  lord  to 
his  elder  sister.  "  Then  good-by  to  our  chances  with 
your  aunt.  The  Baroness  will  be  sure  to  leave  him  all 
her  money  to  spite  us,  and  because  he  doesn't  want  it. 
Nevertheless,  the  lad  is  a  good  lad  enough,  and  it  is 
not  his  fault,  being  rich,  you  know." 

"  He  is  very  simple  and  modest  in  his  habits  for  one 
so  wealthy,"  remarks  Maria. 

"  Rich  people  often  are  so,"  says  my  lord.  "  If  I  were 
rich,  I  often  think  I  would  be  the  greatest  miser,  and  live 
in  rags  and  on  a  crust.  Depend  on  it  there  is  no  pleasure 
so  enduring  as  money-getting.  It  grows  on  you,  and 
increases  with  old  age.  But  because  I  am  as  poor  as 
Lazarus,  I  dress  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  fare  sump- 
tuously every  day." 

Maria  went  to  the  book-room  and  got  the  "  History 
of  Virginia,  by  R.  B.  Gent  "—and  read  therein  what  an 
admirable  climate  it  was,  and  how  all  kinds  of  fruit  and 


•-D- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  209 

corn  grew  in  that  province,  and  what  noble  rivers  were 
those  of  Potomac  and  Rappahannoc,  abounding  in  all 
sorts  of  fish.  And  she  wondered  whether  the  climate 
^  would  agree  with  her,  and  whether  her  aunt  would  like 
her.  And  Harry  was  sure  his  mother  would  adore  her, 
so  would  oNIountain.  And  when  he  was  asked  about  the 
number  of  his  mother's  servants,  he  said,  they  certainly 
had  more  servants  than  are  seen  in  England— he  did  not 
know  how  many.  But  the  negroes  did  not  do  near  as 
much  work  as  English  servants  did :  hence  the  necessity 
of  keeping  so  great  a  number.  As  for  some  others  of 
Gumbo's  details  which  were  brought  to  him,  he  laughed 
and  said  the  boy  was  wonderful  as  a  romancer,  and  in 
telling  such  stories  he  supposed  was  trying  to  speak  out 
for  the  honour  of  the  family. 

So  Harry  was  modest  as  well  as  rich!  His  denials 
only  served  to  confirm  his  relatives' opinion  regarding  his 
splendid  expectations.  IMore  and  more  the  Countess  and 
the  ladies  were  friendly  and  affectionate  with  him.  More 
and  more  IMr.  Will  betted  with  him,  and  wanted  to  sell 
him  bargains.  Harry's  simple  dress  and  equipage  only 
served  to  confirm  his  friends'  idea  of  his  wealth.  To 
see  a  young  man  of  his  rank  and  means  with  but  one 
servant,  and  without  horses  or  a  carriage  of  his  own — 
what  modesty!  When  he  went  to  London  he  would  cut 
a  better  figure?  Of  course  he  would.  Castlewood  would 
introduce  him  to  the  best  society  in  the  capital,  and  he 
would  appear  as  he  ought  to  appear  at  St.  James's.  No 
man  could  be  more  pleasant,  wicked,  lively,  obsequious 
than  the  worthy  chaplain,  IVIr.  Sampson.  How  proud 
he  would  be  if  he  could  show  his  young  friend  a  little 
of  London  life! — if  he  could  warn  rogues  off  him,  and 
keep  him  out  of  the  way  of  harm!    Mr.  Sampson  was 


210  THE  VIRGINIANS 

very  kind:  everybody  was  very  kind.  Harry  liked 
quite  well  the  respect  that  was  paid  to  him.  As  Madam 
Esmond's  son  he  thought  perhaps  it  was  his  due:  and 
took  for  granted  that  he  was  the  personage  which  his 
family  imagined  him  to  be.  How  should  he  know  better, 
who  had  never  as  yet  seen  anj^  place  but  his  own  prov- 
ince, and  why  should  he  not  respect  his  own  condition 
when  other  people  respected  it  so  ?  So  all  the  little  knot 
of  people  at  Castlewood  House,  and  from  these  the  peo- 
ple in  Castlewood  village,  and  from  thence  the  people  in 
the  whole  county,  chose  to  imagine  that  Mr.  Harry  Es- 
mond Warrington  was  the  heir  of  immense  wealth,  and 
a  gentleman  of  very  great  importance,  because  his  negro 
valet  told  lies  about  him  in  the  servants'-hall. 

Harry's  aunt,  Madame  de  Bernstein,  after  a  week  or 
two,  began  to  tire  of  Castlewood  and  the  inhabitants  of 
that  mansion,  and  the  neighbours  who  came  to  visit  them. 
This  clever  woman  tired  of  most  things  and  people 
sooner  or  later.  So  she  took  to  nodding  and  sleeping 
over  the  chaplain's  stories,  and  to  doze  at  her  whist  and 
over  her  dinner,  and  to  be  very  snappish  and  sarcastic  in 
her  conversation  with  her  Esmond  nephews  and  nieces, 
hitting  out  blows  at  my  lord  and  his  brother  the  jockey, 
and  my  ladies,  widowed  and  unmarried,  who  winced 
under  her  scornful  remarks,  and  bore  them  as  they  best 
might.  The  cook,  whom  she  had  so  praised  on  first 
coming,  now  gave  her  no  satisfaction;  the  wine  was 
corked;  the  house  was  damp,  dreary,  and  full  of 
draughts;  the  doors  would  not  shut,  and  the  chimneys 
were  smoky.  She  began  to  think  the  Tunbridge  waters 
were  very  necessary  for  her,  and  ordered  the  doctor,  who 
came  to  her  from  the  neighbouring  town  of  Hexton,  to 
order  tJiose  waters  for  her  benefit. 


^*- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  211 

"  I  wish  to  heaven  she  would  go! "  growled  my  lord, 
who  was  the  most  independent  member  of  his  family. 
"  She  may  go  to  Tunbridge,  or  she  may  go  to  Bath,  or 
she  may  go  to  Jericho  for  me." 

"  Shall  Fanny  and  I  come  with  you  to  Tunbridge, 
dear  Baroness?  "  asked  Lady  Castlewood  of  her  sister- 
in-law. 

"  Not  for  worlds,  my  dear!  The  doctor  orders  me 
absolute  quiet,  and  if  you  came  I  should  have  the 
knocker  going  all  day,  and  Fanny's  lovers  would  never 
be  out  of  the  house,"  answered  the  Baroness,  who  was 
quite  weary  of  Lady  Castlewood's  company. 

"  I  wish  I  could  be  of  any  service  to  my  aunt! "  said 
the  sentimental  Lady  Maria,  demurely. 

"  My  good  child,  what  can  you  do  for  me?  You  can- 
not play  picquet  so  well  as  my  maid,  and  I  have  heard 
all  your  songs  till  I  am  perfectly  tired  of  them!  One 
of  the  gentlemen  might  go  with  me:  at  least  make  the 
journey,  and  see  me  safe  from  highwaymen." 

"  I'm  sure,  INIa'am,  I  shall  be  glad  to  ride  with  you," 
said  ]Mr.  Will. 

"  Oh,  not  you!  I  don't  want  you,  William,"  cried  the 
young  man's  aunt.  "  Why  do  not  you  offer,  and  where 
are  your  American  manners,  you  ungracious  Harry 
Warrington?  Don't  swear.  Will.  Harry  is  much  bet- 
ter company  than  you  are,  and  much  better  ton,  too, 
sir. 

"  Tong,  indeed!  Confound  his  tong,"  growled  envi- 
ous Will  to  himself. 

"  I  dare  say  I  sliall  l)e  tired  of  liim,  as  I  am  of  other 
folks,"  continued  the  Baroness.  "  1  have  scarcely  seen 
Harry  at  all  in  these  last  days.  You  shall  ride  with  me 
to  Tunbridge,  Harry!" 


212  THE  VIRGINIANS 

At  this  direct  appeal,  and  to  no  one's  wonder  more 
than  that  of  his  aunt,  ]Mr.  Harry  Warrington  blushed, 
and  hemmed  and  ha'd:  and  at  length  said,  "I  have 
promised  my  cousin  Castlewood  to  go  over  to  Hexton 
Petty  Sessions  with  him  to-morrow.  He  thinks  I  should 
see  how  the  Courts  here  are  conducted — and — the  par- 
tridge shooting  will  soon  begin,  and  I  have  promised  to 
be  here  for  that.  Ma'am."  Saying  which  words,  Harry 
Warrington  looked  as  red  as  a  poppy,  whilst  Lady 
Maria  held  her  meek  face  downwards,  and  nimbly  plied 
her  needle. 

"  You  actually  refuse  to  go  with  me  to  Tunbridge 
Wells?"  called  out  Madame  Bernstein,  her  eyes  light- 
ening, and  her  face  flushing  up  with  anger,  too. 

"  Not  to  ride  with  you.  Ma'am;  that  I  will  do  with 
all  mj^  heart;  but  to  stay  there — I  have  promised  .  .  .  ." 

"Enough,  enough,  sir!  I  can  go  alone,  and  don't 
want  your  escort,"  cried  the  irate  old  lady,  and  rustled 
out  of  the  room. 

The  Castlewood  family  looked  at  each  other  with 
wonder.  Will  whistled.  Lady  Castlewood  glanced  at 
Fanny,  as  much  as  to  say.  His  chance  is  over.  Lady 
Maria  never  lifted  up  her  eyes  from  her  tambour-frame. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


ON   THE   SCENT 


^r^JfeOUNG  Harry  War- 
rington's act  of 
revolt  came  so  sud- 
denly upon  Ma- 
dame de  Bernstein, 
that  she  had  no 
other  way  of  re- 
plying to  it,  than 
by  the  prompt  out- 
break of  anger 
with  which  we  left 
her  in  the  last  chap- 
ter. She  darted  two 
fierce  glances  at 
Lady  Fanny  and 
her  mother  as  she 
quitted  the  room. 
Lady  Maria  over 
her  tambour- frame 
escaped  without  the  least  notice,  and  scarcely  lifted  up 
her  head  from  her  embroidery,  to  watch  the  aunt  retreat- 
ing, or  the  looks  which  mamma-in-law  and  sister  threw 
at  one  another. 

"  So,  in  s])ite  of  all,  you  have.  Madam?  "  the  maternal 
looks  seemed  to  say. 

"  Have  what?  "  asked  Lady  Fanny's  eyes.    But  what 

213 


214  THE  VIRGINIANS 

good  in  looking  innocent?  She  looked  puzzled.  She 
did  not  look  one-tenth  part  as  innocent  as  Maria.  Had 
she  been  guilty,  she  would  have  looked  not  guilty  much 
more  cleverly ;  and  would  have  taken  care  to  study  and 
compose  a  face  so  as  to  be  ready  to  suit  the  plea.  What- 
ever was  the  expression  of  Fanny's  eyes,  mamma  glared 
on  her  as  if  she  would  have  liked  to  tear  them  out. 

But  Lady  Castlewood  could  not  operate  upon  the 
said  eyes  then  and  there,  like  the  barbarous  monsters  in 
the  stage-direction  in  King  Lear.  When  her  ladyship 
was  going  to  tear  out  her  daughter's  eyes,  she  would  re- 
tire smiling,  with  an  arm  round  her  dear  child's  waist, 
and  then  gouge  her  in  private. 

"So  you  don't  fancj^  goiiig  with  the  old  lady  to  Tun- 
bridge  Wells?  "  was  all  she  said  to  Cousin  Warrington, 
wearing  at  the  same  time  a  perfectly  well-bred  simper  on 
her  face. 

"  And  small  blame  to  our  cousin!  "  interposed  my  lord. 
( The  face  over  the  tambour-frame  looked  up  for  one  in- 
stant. )  "  A  young  fellow  must  not  have  it  all  idling 
and  holiday.  Let  him  mix  up  something  useful  with  his 
pleasures,  and  go  to  the  fiddles  and  pump-rooms  at  Tun- 
bridge  or  the  Bath  later.  Mr.  Warrington  has  to  con- 
duct a  great  estate  in  America :  let  him  see  how  ours  in 
England  are  carried  on.  Will  hath  shown  him  the  ken- 
nel and  the  stables;  and  the  games  in  vogue,  which  I 
think,  cousin,  you  seem  to  play  as  well  as  your  teachers. 
After  harvest  we  will  show  him  a  little  English  fowling 
and  shooting:  in  winter  we  will  take  him  out  a-hunting. 
Though  there  has  been  a  coolness  between  us  and  our 
aunt-kinswoman  in  Virginia,  yet  we  are  of  the  same 
blood.  Ere  we  send  our  cousin  back  to  his  mother,  let 
us  show  him  what  an  English  gentleman's  life  at  home  is. 


^^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS  215 

I  should  like  to  read  with  him  as  well  as  sport  with  him, 
and  that  is  why  I  have  been  pressing  him  of  late  to  stay 
and  bear  me  company." 

My  lord  spoke  with  such  perfect  frankness  that  his 
mother-in-law  and  half-brother  and  sister  could  not  help 
wondering  what  his  meaning  could  be.  The  three  last- 
named  persons  often  held  little  conspiracies  together,  and 
caballed  or  grumbled  against  the  head  of  the  house. 
When  he  adopted  that  frank  tone,  there  was  no  fathom- 
ing his  meaning;  often  it  would  not  be  discovered  until 
months  had  passed.  He  did  not  say,  "  This  is  true,"  but 
"  I  mean  that  this  statement  should  be  accepted  and  be- 
lieved in  my  family.'*  It  was  then  a  thing  convenue,  that 
my  Lord  Castlewood  had  a  laudable  desire  to  cultivate 
the  domestic  affections  and  to  educate,  amuse,  and  im- 
prove his  young  relative ;  and  that  he  had  taken  a  great 
fancy  to  the  lad,  and  wished  that  Harry  should  stay  for 
some  time  near  his  lordship. 

"What  is  Castlewood's  game  now?"  asked  William 
of  his  mother  and  sister  as  they  disappeared  into  the  cor- 
ridors.   "  Stop!    By  George,  I  have  it!  " 

"What,  William?" 

"  He  intends  to  get  him  to  play,  and  to  win  the  Vir- 
ginia estate  back  from  him.    That's  what  it  is!  " 

"  But  the  lad  has  not  got  the  Virginia  estate  to  pay, 
if  he  loses,"  remarks  mamma. 

"  If  my  brother  has  not  some  scheme  in  view,  maj'^  I 
be-" 

"  Hush!  Of  course  he  has  a  scheme  in  view.  But 
what  is  it?  " 

"  He  can't  mean  Maria — Maria  is  as  old  as  Harry's 
mother,"  muses  Mr.  William. 

"  Pooh !  with  her  old  face  and  sandy  hair  and  freckled 


216  THE  VIRGINIANS 

skin !  Impossible !  "  cries  Lady  Fanny,  with  somewhat 
of  a  sigh. 

"  Of  course,  your  ladyship  had  a  fancy  for  the  Iro- 
quois, too!  "  cried  mamma. 

"  I  trust  I  know  my  station  and  duty  better,  Madam! 
If  I  had  liked  him,  that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  marry 
him.    Your  ladyship  hath  taught  me  as  much  as  that." 

"My  Lady  Fanny!" 

"  I  am  sure  you  married  our  papa  without  liking  him. 
You  have  told  me  so  a  thousand  times!  " 

"  And  if  you  did  not  love  our  father  before  marriage, 
you  certainly  did  not  fall  in  love  with  him  afterwards," 
broke  in  Mr.  William,  with  a  laugh.  "  Fan  and  I  re- 
member how  our  honoured  parents  used  to  fight.  Don't 
us.  Fan?    And  our  brother  Esmond  kept  the  peace." 

"Don't  recall  those  dreadful  low  scenes,  William!" 
cries  mamma.  "  When  your  father  took  too  much 
drink,  he  was  like  a  madman ;  and  his  conduct  should  be 
a  warning  to  you,  sir,  who  are  fond  of  the  same  horrible 
practice." 

"  I  am  sure,  Madam,  you  were  not  much  the  happier 
for  marrying  the  man  you  did  not  like,  and  your  lady- 
ship's title  hath  brought  very  little  along  with  it,"  whim- 
pered out  Lady  Fanny.  "  What  is  the  use  of  a  coronet 
with  the  jointure  of  a  tradesman's  wife? — how  many  of 
them  are  richer  than  we  are?  There  is  come  lately  to  live 
in  our  Square,  at  Kensington,  a  grocer's  widow  from 
London  Bridge,  whose  daughters  have  three  gowns 
where  I  have  one;  and  who,  though  they  are  waited  on 
but  by  a  man  and  a  couple  of  maids,  I  know  eat  and 
drink  a  thousand  times  better  than  we  do,  with  our 
scraps  of  cold  meat  on  our  plate,  and  our  great  flaunt- 
ing, trapesing,  impudent,  lazj^  lacqueys !  " 


THE  VIRGINIANS  217 

"  He !  he !  glad  I  dine  at  the  palace,  and  not  at  home !  " 

said  Mr.  Will.     (]\Ir.  Will,  through  his  aunt's  interest 

with  Count  PuffendorfF,   Groom  of  the  Royal    (and 

Serene  Electoral)  Powder-Closet,  had  one  of  the  many 

'■'small  places  at  Court,  that  of  Deputy  Powder.) 

"  Why  should  I  not  be  happy  without  any  title  except 
my  own?  "  continued  Lady  Frances.  "  Many  people 
are.     I  dare  say  they  are  even  happy  in  America." 

"  Yes!  with  a  mother-in-law  who  is  a  perfect  Turk  and 
Tartar,  for  all  I  hear — with  Indian  war-whoops  howling 
all  around  you :  and  with  a  danger  of  losing  your  scalp, 
or  of  being  eat  up  by  a  wild  beast  every  time  you  went 
to  church." 

*'  I  wouldn't  go  to  church,"  said  Lady  Fanny. 

"You'd  go  with  anybody  who  asked  you,  Fan!" 
roared  out  Mr.  Will :  "  and  so  would  old  Maria,  and  so 
would  any  woman,  that's  the  fact."  And  Will  laughed 
at  his  own  wit. 

"  Pray,  good  folks,  what  is  all  your  merriment  about?" 
here  asked  Madame  Bernstein,  peeping  in  on  her  rela- 
tives from  the  tapestried  door  which  led  into  the  gallery 
where  their  conversation  was  held. 

Will  told  her  that  his  mother  and  sister  had  been  hav- 
ing a  fight  (which  was  not  a  novelty,  as  Madame  Bern- 
stein knew),  because  Fanny  wanted  to  marry  their 
cousin,  the  wild  Indian,  and  my  lady  countess  would  not 
let  her.  Fanny  protested  against  this  statement.  Since 
the  very  first  day  when  her  mother  had  told  her  not  to 
speak  to  the  young  gentleman,  she  had  scarcely  ex- 
changed two  words  with  him.  SIic  knew  her  station  bet- 
ter. Slie  did  not  want  to  be  scalped  by  wild  Indians,  or 
eat  up  by  bears. 

Madame  de  Bernstein  looked  puzzled.    "  If  he  is  not 


218  THE  VIRGINIANS 

sta3ang  for  you,  for  whom  is  he  staying?"  she  asked. 
"  At  the  houses  to  which  he  has  been  carried,  you  have 
taken  care  not  to  show  him  a  woman  that  is  not  a  fright 
or  in  the  nursery;  and  I  think  the  boy  is  too  proud  to 
fall  in  love  with  a  dairymaid.  Will." 

"  Humph!  That  is  a  matter  of  taste,  ma'am,"  says 
Mr.  William,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 

"  Of  Mr.  William  Esmond's  taste,  as  you  say;  but 
not  of  yonder  boy's.  The  Esmonds  of  his  grandfather's 
nurture,  sir,  would  not  go  a-courting  in  the  kitchen." 

"  Well,  ma'am,  every  man  to  his  taste,  I  say  again.  A 
fellow  might  go  farther  and  fare  worse  than  mj^  brother's 
servants'-hall,  and  besides  Fan,  there's  only  the  maids  or 
old  Maria  to  choose  from." 

"Maria!  Impossible!"  And  yet,  as  she  spoke  the 
very  words,  a  sudden  thought  crossed  Madame  Bern- 
stein's mind,  that  this  elderly  Calypso  might  have  capti- 
vated her  young  Telemachus.  She  called  to  mind  half- 
a-dozen  instances  in  her  own  experience  of  young  men 
who  had  been  infatuated  by  old  women.  She  remem- 
bered how  frequent  Harry  Warrington's  absences  had 
been  of  late — absences  which  she  attributed  to  his  love 
for  field-sports.  She  remembered  how  often,  when  he 
was  absent,  Maria  Esmond  was  away  too.  Walks  in  cool 
avenues,  whisperings  in  garden  temples,  or  behind  dipt 
hedges,  casual  squeezes  of  the  hand  in  twilight  corridors, 
or  sweet  glances  and  ogles  in  meetings  on  the  stairs, — a 
lively  fancy,  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  world,  very 
likely  a  considerable  personal  experience  in  early  days, 
suggested  all  these  possibilities  and  chances  to  Madame 
de  Bernstein,  just  as  she  was  saying  that  they  were 
impossible. 

"  Impossible,  ma'am!  I  don't  know,"  Will  continued. 
"  My  mother  warned  Fan  off  him." 


THE  VIRGINIANS  219 

"  Oh,  your  mother  did  warn  Fanny  off?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  Baroness!  " 

"Didn't  she?     Didn't  she  pinch  Fanny's  arm  black 
and  blue?    Didn't  they  fight  about  it?  " 
^     "Nonsense,   William!     For   shame,   William!"   cry 
both  the  implicated  ladies  in  a  breath. 

"  And  now,  since  we  have  heard  how  rich  he  is,  per- 
haps it  is  sour  grapes,  that  is  all.  And  now,  since  he  is 
warned  off  the  young  bird,  perhaps  he  is  hunting  the 
old  one,  that's  all.  Impossible!  why  impossible?  You 
know  old  Lady  Suffolk,  ma'am?  " 

"  William,  how  can  you  speak  about  Lady  Suffolk 
to  your  aunt?  " 

A  grin  passed  over  the  countenance  of  the  young  gen- 
tleman. "  Because  Lady  Suffolk  was  a  special  favourite 
at  Court?    Well,  other  folks  have  succeeded  her." 

"  Sir!"  cries  Madame  de  Bernstein,  who  may  have 
had  her  reasons  to  take  offence. 

"  So  they  have,  I  say;  or  who,  pray,  is  my  Lady  Yar- 
mouth now!  And  didn't  old  Lady  Suffolk  go  and  fall 
in  love  with  George  Berkeley,  and  marry  him  when  she 
was  ever  so  old?  Nay,  ma'am,  if  I  remember  right — 
and  we  hear  a  deal  of  town-talk  at  our  table — Harry 
Estridge  went  mad  about  your  ladyship  when  you  were 
somewhat  rising  twenty ;  and  would  have  changed  your 
name  a  third  time  if  you  would  but  have  let  him." 

This  allusion  to  an  adventure  of  her  own  later  days, 
whicli  was,  indeed,  pretty  notorious  to  all  the  world,  did 
not  anger  Madame  de  Bernstein  like  Will's  former  liint 
about  his  aunt  having  been  a  favourite  at  Cieorge  the 
Second's  Coui't;  but,  on  the  contrary,  set  her  in  good 
humour. 

"  Au  fait"  she  said,  musing,  as  she  played  a  pretty 
little  liand  on  the  ta])le,  and  no  doubt  thinking  about  mad 


220  THE  VIRGINIANS 

young  Harry  Estridge;   "  'tis  not  impossible,  William, 
that  old  folks  and  young  folks,  too,  should  play  the  fool." 

"  But  I  can't  understand  a  young  fellow  being  in  love 
with    Maria,"    continued    Mr.    William,  "  however    he 
might  be  with  you,  ma'am.     That's  oter  shose,  as  our 
French  tutor  used  to  say.     You  remember  the  Count 
ma'am;  he,  he! — and  so  does  Maria!  " 

"William!" 

"  And  I  dare  say  the  Count  remembers  the  bastinado 
Castlewood  had  given  to  him.  A  confounded  French 
dancing-master  calling  himself  a  count,  and  daring  to 
fall  in  love  in  our  family!  Whenever  I  want  to  make 
myself  uncommonly  agreeable  to  old  Maria,  I  just  say 
a  few  words  of  parly  voo  to  her.  She  knows  what  I 
mean." 

"  Have  you  abused  her  to  your  cousin,  Harry  War- 
rington? "  asked  Madame  de  Bernstein. 

"  Well— I  know  she  is  always  abusing  me— and  I  have 
said  my  mind  about  her,"  said  Will. 

"  O  you  idiot!  "  cried  the  old  lady.  "  Who  but  a  gaby 
ever  spoke  ill  of  a  woman  to  her  sweetheart?  He  will  tell 
her  everything,  and  they  both  will  hate  you." 

"  The  very  thing,  ma'am!  "  cried  Will,  bursting  into 
a  great  laugh.  "  I  had  a  sort  of  suspicion,  you  see,  and 
two  days  ago,  as  we  were  riding  together,  I  told  Harry 
Warrington  a  bit  of  my  mind  about  Maria;— why 
shouldn't  I,  I  say?  She  is  always  abusing  me,  ain't  she. 
Fan?  And  your  favourite  turned  as  red  as  my  plush 
waistcoat— wondered  how  a  gentleman  could  malign  his 
own  flesh  and  blood,  and,  trembling  all  over  with  rage, 
said  I  was  no  true  Esmond." 

"  Why  didn't  you  chastise  him,  sir,  as  my  lord  did  the 
dancing-master? "  cried  Lady  Castlewood. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  221 

"  Well,  mother, — 5^011  see  that  at  quarter-staff  there's 
two  sticks  used,"  replied  Mr.  William;  "  and  my  opinion 
is,  that  Harry  Warrington  can  guard  his  own  head  un- 
X  commonly  well.  Perhaps  that  is  one  of  the  reasons  why 
I  did  not  offer  to  treat  my  cousin  to  a  caning.  And 
now  you  say  so,  ma'am,  I  know  he  has  told  Maria.  She 
has  been  looking  battle,  murder,  and  sudden  death  at 
me  ever  since.  All  which  shows — "  and  here  he  turned 
to  his  aunt. 

"  All  which  shows  what?  " 

"  That  I  think  we  are  on  the  right  scent;  and  that 
we've  found  Maria — the  old  fox!  "  And  the  ingenuous 
youth  here  clapped  his  hand  to  his  mouth,  and  gave  a 
loud  halloo. 

How  far  had  this  pretty  intrigue  gone?  now  was  the 
question.  Mr.  Will  said,  that  at  her  age,  JNIaria  would 
be  for  conducting  matters  as  rapidly  as  possible,  not 
having  much  time  to  lose.  There  was  not  a  great  deal 
of  love  lost  between  Will  and  his  half-sister. 

Who  would  sift  the  matter  to  the  bottom?  Scolding 
one  party  or  the  other  was  of  no  avail.  Threats  only 
serve  to  aggravate  people  in  such  cases.  "  I  never  was  in 
danger  but  once,  young  people,"  said  Madame  de  Bern- 
stein, "  and  I  think  that  was  because  my  poor  mother 
contradicted  me.  If  this  boy  is  like  others  of  his  family, 
the  more  we  oppose  him,  the  more  entete  he  will  be ;  and 
we  shall  never  get  him  out  of  his  scrape." 

"  Faith,  ma'am,  suppose  we  leave  him  in  it? "  grum- 
bled Will.  "  Old  Maria  and  I  don't  love  each  other  too 
much,  I  grant  you;  but  an  English  earl's  daughter  is 
good  enough  for  an  American  tobacco-planter,  when  all 
is  said  and  done." 

Here  his  mother  and  sister  broke  out.     They  would 


222  THE  VIRGINIANS 

not  hear  of  such  a  union.  To  which  Will  answered,  "  You 
are  like  the  dog  in  the  manger.  You  don't  want  the  man 
yourself,  Fanny — " 

"  I  want  him,  indeed!  "  cries  Lady  Fanny,  with  a  toss 
of  her  head. 

"  Then  why  grudge  him  to  INIaria?  I  think  Castle- 
wood  wants  her  to  have  him." 

"  Why  grudge  him  to  Maria,  sir? "  cried  Madame 
de  Bernstein,  with  great  energy.  "  Do  you  remember 
who  the  poor  boy  is,  and  what  your  house  owes  to  his 
family?  His  grandfather  was  the  best  friend  your 
father  ever  had,  and  gave  up  this  estate,  this  title,  this 
very  castle,  in  which  you  are  conspiring  against  the 
friendless  Virginian  lad,  that  you  and  yours  might 
profit  by  it.  And  the  reward  for  all  this  kindness  is, 
that  you  all  but  shut  the  door  on  the  child  when  he 
knocks  at  it,  and  talk  of  marrying  him  to  a  silly  elderly 
creature,  who  might  be  his  mother!  He  shan't  marry 
her." 

"  The  very  thing  we  were  saying  and  thinking,  my 
dear  Baroness!"  interposes  Lady  Castlewood.  ''Our 
part  of  the  family  is  not  eager  about  the  match,  though 
my  lord  and  Maria  may  be." 

"  You  will  like  him  for  yourself,  now  that  you  hear 
he  is  rich — and  may  be  richer,  young  people,  mind  you 
that,"  cried  Madam  Beatrix,  turning  upon  the  other 
women. 

"  Mr.  Warrington  may  be  ever  so  rich,  madam,  but 
there  is  no  need  why  your  ladyship  should  perpetually 
remind  us  that  we  are  poor,"  broke  in  Lady  Castlewood, 
with  some  spirit.  "  At  least  there  is  very  little  disparity 
in  Fanny's  age  and  Mr.  Harry's;  and  you  surely  will 
be  the  last  to  say  that  a  lady  of  our  name  and  family  is 


THE  VIRGINIANS  223 

not  good  enough  for  any  gentleman  born  in  Virginia 
or  elsewhere." 

"  Let  Fanny  take  an  English  gentleman,  countess,  not 
an  American.  With  such  a  name  and  such  a  mother  to 
help  her,  and  with  all  her  good  looks  and  accomplish- 
ments, sure  she  can't  fail  of  finding  a  man  worthy  of  her. 
But  from  what  I  know  about  the  daughters  of  this  house, 
and  what  I  imagine  about  our  j^oung  cousin,  I  am  cer- 
tain that  no  happy  match  could  be  made  between  them." 

"  What  does  my  aunt  know  about  me? "  asked  Lady 
Fanny,  turning  very  red. 

"  Only  your  temper,  my  dear.  You  don't  suppose  that 
I  believe  all  the  tittle-tattle  and  scandal  which  one  cannot 
help  hearing  in  town?  But  the  temper  and  early  edu- 
cation are  sufficient.  Only  fancy  one  of  you  condemned 
to  leave  St.  James's  and  the  Mall,  and  live  in  a  planta- 
tion surrounded  by  savages!  You  would  die  of  ennui, 
or  worry  3^our  husband's  life  out  with  your  ill  humour. 
You  are  born,  ladies,  to  ornament  courts— not  wigwams. 
Let  this  lad  go  back  to  his  wilderness  with  a  wife  who  is 
suited  to  him." 

The  other  two  ladies  declared  in  a  breath  that,  for  their 
parts,  they  desired  no  better,  and,  after  a  few  more 
words,  went  on  their  way,  while  Madame  de  Bernstein, 
lifting  up  her  tapestried  door,  retired  into  her  own  cham- 
ber. She  saw  all  the  sclieme  now ;  she  admired  the  ways 
of  women,  calling  a  score  of  little  circumstances  back  to 
mind.  She  wondered  at  her  own  bhiuhiess  during  the 
kst  few  days,  and  that  slie  should  not  have  ])erceived 
the  rise  and  progress  of  this  queer  little  iuti-igue.  How 
far  had  it  gone?  was  now  the  question.  Was  Harry's 
passion  of  the  serious  and  tragical  sort,  or  a  mere  fire  of 
straw  which  a  day  or  two  would  burn  out?    How  deeply 


224  THE  VIRGINIANS 

was  he  committed  ?  She  dreaded  the  strength  of  Harry's 
passion,  and  the  weakness  of  INIaria's.  A  woman  of  her 
age  is  so  desperate,  JNIadame  Bernstein  may  have 
thought,  that  she  will  make  any  efforts  to  secure  a  lover. 
Scandal,  hah!  She  will  retire  and  be  a  princess  in  Vir- 
ginia, and  leave  the  folks  in  England  to  talk  as  much 
scandal  as  they  choose. 

Is  there  always,  then,  one  thing  which  women  do  not 
tell  to  one  another,  and  about  which  they  agree  to  de- 
ceive each  other?  Does  the  concealment  arise  from  deceit 
or  modesty?  A  man,  as  soon  as  he  feels  an  inclination 
for  one  of  the  other  sex,  seeks  for  a  friend  of  his  own  to 
whom  he  may  impart  the  delightful  intelligence.  A 
woman  (with  more  or  less  skill)  buries  her  secret  away 
from  her  kind.  For  daj'^s  and  weeks  past,  had  not  this 
old  Maria  made  fools  of  the  whole  house,— Maria  the 
butt  of  the  family? 

I  forbear  to  go  into  too  curious  inquiries  regarding 
the  Lady  Maria's  antecedents.  I  have  my  own  opinion 
about  Madame  Bernstein's.  A  hundred  years  ago  peo- 
ple of  the  great  world  were  not  so  strait-laced  as  they  are 
now,  when  everybody  is  good,  pure,  moral,  modest ;  when 
there  is  no  skeleton  in  anybody's  closet;  when  there  is 
no  scheming;  no  slurring  over  of  old  stories;  when  no 
girl  tries  to  sell  herself  for  wealth  and  no  mother  abets 
her.  Suppose  my  Lady  Maria  tries  to  make  her  little 
game,  wherein  is  her  ladyship's  great  eccentricity? 

On  these  points  no  doubt  the  Baroness  de  Bernstein 
thought,  as  she  communed  with  herself  in  her  private 
apartment. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


AN   OLD   STORY 

S  my  Lady  Castlewood  and 
her  son  and  daughter 
passed  through  one  door 
of  the  saloon  where  they 
had  all  been  seated,  my 
lord  Castlewood  departed 
by  another  issue ;  and  then 
the  demure  eyes  looked 
up  from  the  tambour- 
frame  on  which  they  had 
persisted  hitherto  in  ex- 
amining the  innocent  vio- 
lets and  jonquils.  The 
eyes  looked  up  at  Harry 
Warrington,  who  stood  at 
an  ancestral  portrait  un- 
der the  great  fire-place. 
He  had  gathered  a  great  heap  of  blushes  (those  flowers 
which  ])loom  so  rarely  after  gentlefolks'  spring-time), 
and  with  them  ornamented  his  honest  countenance,  his 
cheeks,  his  forehead,  nay,  his  youthful  ears. 

"  Why  did  you  refuse  to  go  with  our  aunt,  cousin?  " 
asked  the  lady  of  the  tambour-frame. 

"  Because  your  ladyship  bade  me  stay,"  answered  the 
lad. 

"  /  bid  you  stay!    La!  child!    What  one  says  in  fun, 

225 


226  THE  VIRGINIANS 

you  take  in  earnest!  Are  all  you  Virginian  gentlemen 
so  obsequious  as  to  fancy  every  idle  word  a  lady  says  is 
a  command?  Virginia  must  be  a  pleasant  country  for 
our  sex  if  it  be  so!  " 

"  You  said — when — when  we  walked  in  the  terrace 
two  nights  since, — Oh  heaven!"  cried  Harry,  with  a 
voice  trembling  with  emotion. 

"Ah,  that  sweet  night,  cousin!"  cries  the  Tambour- 
frame. 

"  Whe — whe — when  you  gave  me  this  rose  from  your 
own  neck " — roared  out  Harry,  pulling  suddenly  a 
crumpled  and  decayed  vegetable  from  his  waistcoat — 
"  which  I  will  never  part  with — with,  no,  by  heavens, 
whilst  this  heart  continues  to  beat !  You  said, '  Harry,  if 
your  aunt  asks  you  to  go  away,  you  will  go,  and  if  you 
go,  you  will  forget  me.' — Didn't  you  say  so?  " 

"  All  men  forget!  "  said  the  Virgin,  with  a  sigh. 

"  In  this  cold  selfish  country  they  may,  cousin,  not 
in  ours,"  continues  Harry,  yet  in  the  same  state  of  exal- 
tation—" I  had  rather  have  lost  an  arm  almost  than  re- 
fused the  old  lady.  I  tell  you  it  went  to  my  heart  to 
say  no  to  her,  and  she  so  kind  to  me,  and  who  had  been 
the  means  of  introducing  me  to — to — oh,  heaven!  "... 
(Here  a  kick  to  an  intervening  spaniel,  which  flies  yelp- 
ing from  before  the  fire,  and  a  rapid  advance  on  the 
tambour-frame.)  "  Look  here,  cousin!  If  you  were  to 
bid  me  jump  out  of  yonder  window,  I  should  do  it;  or 
murder,  I  should  do  it." 

"La!  but  you  need  not  squeeze  one's  hand  so,  you 
sillj^  child !  "  remarks  Maria. 

"  I  can't  help  it— we  are  so  in  the  south.  Where  mj^ 
heart  is,  I  can't  help  speaking  my  mind  out,  cousin — 
and  you  know  where  that  heart  is!     Ever  since  that 


>^ 


A 


^'•^    -r\ 


ro.'v*^.-;^'^ 


Gather  ye  Roaebuda 
while  ye  may 


THE  VIRGINIANS  227 

evening— that— Oh  heaven!  I  tell  you  I  have  hardly 
slept  since — I  want  to  do  something — to  distinguish  my- 
self—to be  ever  so  great.  I  wish  there  was  Giants, 
:^>  Maria,  as  I  have  read  of  in — in  books,  that  I  could  go 
and  fight  'em.  I  wish  you  was  in  distress,  that  I  might 
help  you,  somehow.  I  wish  you  wanted  my  blood,  that 
I  might  spend  every  drop  of  it  for  you.  And  when  you 
told  me  not  to  go  with  ^ladam  Bernstein  .  .  ." 

"  I  tell  thee,  child?  never." 

"  I  thought  you  told  me.  You  said  you  knew  I  pre- 
ferred my  aunt  to  my  cousin,  and  I  said  then  what  I 
say  now,  '  Incomparable  Maria!  I  prefer  thee  to  all 
the  women  in  the  world  and  all  the  angels  in  Paradise— 
and  I  would  go  anywhere,  were  it  to  dungeons,  if  you 
ordered  me ! '  And  do  you  think  I  would  not  stay  any- 
where, when  you  only  desired  that  I  should  be  near 
you?  "  he  added,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"Men  always  talk  in  that  way — that  is, — that  is,  I  have 
heard  so,"  said  the  spinster,  correcting  herself;  "  for  what 
should  a  country -bred  woman  know  about  j^ou  creatures? 
When  you  are  near  us,  they  say  you  are  all  raptures  and 
flames  and  promises  and  I  don't  know  what;  when  you 
are  away,  you  forget  all  about  us." 

"  But  I  think  I  never  want  to  go  away  as  long  as  I 
live,"  groaned  out  the  young  man.  "  I  have  tired  of 
many  things;  not  books  and  that,  I  never  cared  for 
study  much,  but  games  and  sports  which  I  used  to  be 
fond  of  when  I  was  a  boy.  Before  I  saw  you,  it  was  to 
be  a  soldier  I  most  desired;  I  tore  my  hair  with  rage 
when  my  poor  dear  brother  went  away  instead  of  me 
on  that  expedition  in  which  we  lost  him.  But  now,  I 
only  care  for  one  thing  in  the  world,  and  you  know 
what  that  is." 


228  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  You  silly  child !  don't  you  know  I  am  almost  old 
enough  to  be  ...  .  ?  " 

"  I  know— I  know!  but  what  is  that  to  me?  Hasn't 
3^our  br  .  .  . — well,  never  mind  who,  some  of  'em — told 
me  stories  against  3^ou,  and  didn't  they  show  me  the 
Family  Bible,  where  all  your  names  are  down,  and  the 
dates  of  your  birth?" 

"The  cowards!  Who  did  that?"  cried  out  Lady 
JNIaria.  "  Dear  Harry,  tell  me  who  did  that?  Was  it 
my  mother-in-law,  the  grasping,  odious,  abandoned, 
brazen  harpy?  Do  you  know  all  about  her?  How  she 
married  my  father  in  his  cups— the  horrid  hussey!— 
and  .  .  .  ." 

"  Indeed  it  wasn't  Lady  Castlewood,"  interposed  the 
wondering  Harry. 

"  Then  it  was  my  aunt,"  continued  the  infuriate  lady. 
"A  pretty  moralist,  indeed!  A  Bishop's  widow,  for- 
sooth, and  I  should  like  to  know  whose  widow^  before 
and  afterwards.  Why,  Harry,  she  intrigued  with  the 
Pretender,  and  with  the  Court  of  Hanover,  and,  I 
dare  say,  would  with  the  Court  of  Rome  and  the 
Sultan  of  Turkey  if  she  had  had  the  means.  Do 
you  know  who  her  second  husband  was?  A  creature 
who  .  .  .  ." 

"  But  our  avmt  never  spoke  a  word  against  you,"  broke 
in  Harry,  more  and  more  amazed  at  the  nymph's  vehe- 
mence. 

She  checked  her  anger.  In  the  inquisitive  counte- 
nance opposite  to  her  she  thought  she  read  some  alarm  as 
to  the  temper  which  she  was  exhibiting. 

"  Well,  well!  I  am  a  fool,"  she  said.  "  I  want  thee  to 
think  well  of  me,  Harry!  " 

A  hand  is  somehow  put  out  and  seized  and,  no  doubt, 


THE  VIRGINIANS  229 

kissed  by  the  rapturous  j^outh.    "  Angel!  "  he  cries,  look- 
ing into  her  face  with  his  eager,  honest  eyes. 

Two  fish-pools  irradiated  by  a  pair  of  stars  would  not 
kindle  to  greater  warmth  than  did  those  elderly  orbs  into 
which  Harry  poured  his  gaze.  Nevertheless,  he  plunged 
into  their  blue  depths,  and  fancied  he  saw  heaven  in  their 
calm  brightness.  So  that  silly  dog  (of  whom  iEsop  or 
the  Spelling-book  used  to  tell  us  in  youth)  beheld  a 
beef -bone  in  the  pond,  and  snapped  at  it,  and  lost  the 
beef -bone  he  was  carrying.  Oh,  absurd  cur!  He  saw 
the  beef -bone  in  his  own  mouth  reflected  in  the  treacher- 
ous pool,  which  dimpled,  I  dare  say,  with  ever  so  many 
smiles,  coolly  sucked  up  the  meat,  and  returned  to  its 
usual  placidity.  Ah!  what  a  heap  of  wreck  lie  beneath 
some  of  those  quiet  surfaces!  What  treasures  we  have 
dropped  into  them!  What  chased  golden  dishes,  what 
precious  jewels  of  love,  what  bones  after  bones,  and 
sweetest  heart's  flesh!  Do  not  some  very  faithful  and 
unlucky  dogs  jump  in  bodily,  when  they  are  swallowed 
up  heads  and  tails  entirelj^?  When  some  women  come 
to  be  dragged,  it  is  a  marvel  what  will  be  found  in  the 
depths  of  them.  Cavete,  canes!  Have  a  care  how  ye  lap 
that  water.  What  do  they  want  with  us,  the  mischievous 
siren  sluts?  A  green-eyed  Naiad  never  rests  until  she 
has  inveigled  a  fellow  under  Mater;  she  sings  after  him, 
she  dances  after  him;  she  winds  round  him,  glittering 
tortuously;  she  warbles  and  whispers  dainty  secrets  at 
his  cheek,  she  kisses  his  feet,  she  leers  at  him  from  out  of 
her  rushes:  all  her  beds  sigh  out,  "  Come,  sweet  youth! 
Hither,  hither,  rosy  Hylas!  "  Pop  goes  Hylas.  ( Surely 
the  fable  is  renewed  for  ever  and  ever?)  Has  liis  cap- 
tivator  any  pleasure?  Doth  slie  take  any  account  of 
him?     No  more  than  a  fisherman  landing  at  Brighton 


230  THE  VIRGINIANS 

does  of  one  out  of  a  hundred  thousand  herrings.  .  .  .  The 
last  time  Ulysses  rowed  by  the  Sirens'  bank,  he  and  his 
men  did  not  care  though  a  whole  shoal  of  them  were 
singing  and  combing  their  longest  locks.  Young  Te- 
lemachus  was  for  jumping  overboard;  but  the  tough  old 
crew  held  the  silly,  bawling  lad.  They  were  deaf,  and 
could  not  hear  his  bawling  nor  the  sea-nymphs'  singing. 
They  were  dim  of  sight,  and  did  not  see  how  lovely  the 
witches  were.  The  stale,  old,  leering  witches!  Away 
with  ye!  I  dare  say  you  have  painted  your  cheeks  by 
this  time ;  your  wretched  old  songs  are  as  out  of  fashion 
as  Mozart,  and  it  is  all  false  hair  you  are  combing ! 

In  the  last  sentence  you  see  Lector  Benevolus  and 
Scriptor  Doctissimus  figure  as  tough  old  Ulysses  and  his 
tough  old  Boatswain,  who  do  not  care  a  quid  of  tobacco 
for  any  Siren  at  Sirens'  Point ;  but  Harry  Warrington 
is  green  Telemachus,  who,  be  sure,  was  very  unlike  the 
soft  youth  in  the  good  Bishop  of  Cambray's  twaddling 
story.  He  does  not  see  that  the  siren  paints  the  lashes 
from  under  which  she  ogles  him ;  will  put  by  into  a  box 
when  she  has  done  the  ringlets  into  which  she  would  in- 
veigle him;  and  if  she  eats  him,  as  she  proposes  to  do, 
will  crunch  his  bones  with  a  new  set  of  grinders  just 
from  the  dentist's,  and  warranted  for  mastication.  The 
song  is  not  stale  to  Harry  Warrington,  nor  the  voice 
cracked  or  out  of  tune  that  sings  it.  But— but— Oh, 
dear  me,  Brother  Boatswain !  Don't  you  remember  how 
pleasant  the  opera  was  when  we  first  heard  it  ?  Cosi  fan 
tutti  was  its  name— Mozart's  music.  Now,  I  dare  say, 
they  have  other  words,  and  other  music,  and  other  singers 
and  fiddlers,  and  another  great  crowd  in  the  pit.  Well, 
well,  Cosi  fan  tutti  is  still  upon  the  bills,  and  they  are 
going  on  singing  it  over  and  over  and  over. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  231 

Any  man  or  woman  with  a  pennyworth  of  brains,  or 
the  hke  precious  amomit  of  personal  experience,  or  who 
has  read  a  novel  before,  must,  when  Harry  pulled  out 
those  faded  vegetables  just  now,  have  gone  off  into  a 
digression  of  his  own,  as  the  writer  confesses  for  himself 
he  was  diverging  whilst  he  has  been  writing  the  last  brace 
of  paragraphs.  If  he  sees  a  pair  of  lovers  whispering  in 
a  garden  alley  or  the  embrasure  of  a  window,  or  a  pair 
of  glances  shot  across  the  room  from  Jenny  to  the  artless 
Jessamy,  he  falls  to  musing  on  former  days  when,  &c. 
&c.  These  things  follow  each  other  by  a  general  law, 
which  is  not  as  old  as  the  hills,  to  be  sure,  but  as  old  as 
the  people  who  walk  up  and  down  them.  When,  I  say, 
a  lad  pulls  a  bunch  of  amputated  and  now  decomposing 
greens  from  his  breast  and  falls  to  kissing  it,  what  is 
the  use  of  saying  much  more?  As  well  tell  the  mar- 
ket-gardener's name  from  whom  the  slip-rose  was 
bought — the  waterings,  clippings,  trimmings,  manur- 
ings,  the  plant  has  undergone — as  tell  how  Harry  War- 
rington came  by  it.  Rose,  elle  a  vecu  ce  que  vivent  les 
roses,  has  been  trimmed,  has  been  watered,  has  been 
potted,  has  been  sticked,  has  been  cut,  worn,  given 
away,  transferred  to  yonder  boy's  pocket-book  and 
bosom,  according  to  the  laws  and  fate  appertaining  to 
roses. 

And  how  came  Maria  to  give  it  to  Harry?  And  how 
did  he  come  to  want  it  and  to  prize  it  so  passionately 
when  he  got  the  bit  of  rubbish?  Is  not  one  story  as  stale 
as  the  other?  Are  not  they  all  alike?  What  is  the  use, 
I  say,  of  telling  them  over  and  over?  Harry  values  that 
rose  because  Maria  has  ogled  him  in  the  old  way;  be- 
cause she  has  happened  to  meet  him  in  the  garden  in 
the  old  way;   because  he  has  taken  lier  hand  in  the  old 


232  THE  VIRGINIANS 

way;  because  they  have  whispered  to  one  another 
])ehind  the  old  curtain  (the  gaping  old  rag,  as  if  every- 
body could  not  peep  through  it!)  ;  because,  in  this  de- 
licious weather,  they  have  happened  to  be  early  risers 
and  go  into  the  park;  because  dear  Goody  Jenkins  in 
the  village  happened  to  have  a  bad  knee,  and  my  Lady 
Maria  went  to  read  to  her,  and  gave  her  calves'-foot  jelly, 
and  because  somebody,  of  course,  must  carry  the  basket. 
Whole  chapters  might  have  been  written  to  chronicle 
all  these  circumstances,  but  a  quoi  hon?  The  incidents 
of  life,  and  love-making  especially,  I  believe  to  resem- 
ble each  other  so  much,  that  I  am  surprised,  gentlemen 
and  ladies,  you  read  novels  any  more.  Psha !  Of  course 
that  rose  in  young  Harry's  pocket-book  had  grown,  and 
had  budded,  and  had  bloomed,  and  was  now  rotting,  like 
other  roses.  I  suppose  you  will  want  me  to  say  that  the 
young  fool  kissed  it  next  ?  Of  course  he  kissed  it.  What 
were  lips  made  for,  pray,  but  for  smiling  and  simpering, 
and  (possibly)  humbugging,  and  kissing,  and  opening 
to  receive  mutton-chops,  cigars,  and  so  forth.  I  cannot 
write  this  part  of  the  story  of  our  Virginians,  because 
Harry  did  not  dare  to  write  it  himself  to  anybody  at 
home,  because,  if  he  wrote  any  letters  to  Maria  (which, 
of  course,  he  did,  as  they  were  in  the  same  house,  and 
might  meet  each  other  as  much  as  they  liked ) ,  they  were 
destroyed ;  because  he  afterwards  chose  to  be  very  silent 
about  the  storj^  and  we  can't  have  it  from  her  ladyship, 
who  never  told  the  truth  about  anything.  But  cui  bono? 
I  say  again.  What  is  the  good  of  telling  the  story?  My 
gentle  reader,  take  your  story:  take  mine.  To-morrow 
it  shall  be  Miss  Fanny's,  who  is  just  walking  away  with 
her  doll  to  the  school-room  and  the  governess  (poor 
victim!   she  has  a  version  of  it  in  her  desk) :   and  next 


THE  VIRGINIANS  233 

day  it  shall  be  Baby's,  who  is  bawling  out  on  the  stairs 
for  his  bottle. 

Maria  might  like  to  have  and  exercise  power  over  the 
•young  Virginian;  but  she  did  not  want  that  Harry 
should  quarrel  with  his  aunt  for  her  sake,  or  that 
Madame  de  Bernstein  should  be  angry  with  her.  Harry 
was  not  the  Lord  of  Virginia  yet:  he  was  only  the 
Prince,  and  the  Queen  might  marry  and  have  other 
Princes,  and  the  laws  of  primogeniture  might  not  be 
established  in  Virginia,  qu'en  savait  elle?  My  lord  her 
brother  and  she  had  exchanged  no  words  at  all  about  the 
delicate  business.  But  they  understood  each  other,  and 
the  Earl  had  a  way  of  understanding  things  without 
speaking.  He  knew  his  Maria  perfectly  well:  in  the 
course  of  a  life  of  which  not  a  little  had  been  spent  in 
her  brother's  company  and  under  his  roof,  Maria's  dis- 
position, ways,  tricks,  faults,  had  come  to  be  perfectly 
understood  by  the  head  of  the  family:  and  she  would 
find  her  little  schemes  checked  or  aided  by  him,  as  to  his 
lordship  seemed  good,  and  without  need  of  any  words 
between  them.  Thus  three  days  before,  when  she  hap- 
pened to  be  going  to  see  that  poor  dear  old  Goody,  who 
was  ill  with  the  sore  knee  in  the  village  (and  when  Harry 
Warrington  happened  to  be  walking  behind  the  elms 
on  the  green  too) ,  my  lord  with  his  dogs  about  him,  and 
his  gardener  walking  after  him,  crossed  the  coiu't,  just 
as  Lady  Maria  was  tripping  to  the  gate-house — and  his 
lordship  called  his  sister,  and  said:  "Molly,  j^ou  are 
going  to  see  Goody  Jenkins.  You  are  a  charitable  soul, 
my  dear.  Give  Gammer  Jenkins  this  half-crown  for 
me— unless  our  cousin,  Warrington,  has  already  given 
her  money.  A  pleasant  walk  to  you.  I^ct  her  waul  for 
nothing."    And  at  supper,  m}'  lord  asked  JNIr.  Warring- 


234  THE  VIRGINIANS 

ton  many  questions  about  the  poor  in  Virginia,  and  the 
means  of  maintaining  them,  to  which  the  young  gentle- 
man gave  the  best  answers  he  might.  His  lordship 
wished  that  in  the  old  country  there  were  no  more  poor 
people  than  in  the  new :  and  recommended  Harry  to  visit 
the  jDoor  and  people  of  every  degree,  indeed  high  and 
low — in  the  country  to  look  at  the  agriculture,  in  the  city 
at  the  manufactures  and  municipal  institutions — to 
which  edifying  advice  Harry  acceded  with  becoming 
modesty  and  few  words,  and  INIadame  Bernstein  nodded 
approval  over  her  picquet  with  the  chaplain.  Next  day, 
Harry  was  in  my  lord's  justice-room:  the  next  day  he 
was  out  ever  so  long  with  my  lord  on  the  farm — and 
coming  home,  what  does  my  lord  do,  but  look  in  on  a 
sick  tenant?  I  think  Lady  Maria  was  out  on  that  day, 
too ;  she  had  been  reading  good  books  to  that  poor  dear 
Goody  Jenkins,  though  I  don't  suppose  Madame  Bern- 
stein ever  thought  of  asking  about  her  niece. 

"  Castlewood,  Hampshire,  England,  August  5,  1757. 
"  My  dear  Mountain, — At  first,  as  I  wrote,  I  did  not  like 
Castlewood,  nor  my  cousins  there,  very  much.  Now,  I  am  used 
to  their  ways,  and  we  begin  to  understand  each  other  much 
better.  With  my  duty  to  my  mother,  tell  her,  I  hope,  that  con- 
sidering her  ladyship's  great  kindness  to  me.  Madam  Esmond 
will  be  reconciled  to  her  half-sister,  the  Baroness  de  Bernstein. 
The  Baroness,  you  know,  was  my  Grandmamma's  daughter  by 
her  first  husband,  Lord  Castlewood  (only  Grandpapa  really  was 
the  real  Lord)  ;  however,  that  was  not  his,  that  is  the  other 
Lord  Castlewood's  fault  you  know,  and  he  was  very  kind  to 
Grandpapa,  who  always  spoke  most  kindly  of  him  to  us  as  you 
Jcnow. 

"  Madame  the  Baroness  Bernstein  first  married  a  clergyman. 
Reverend  Mr.  Tusher,  who  was  so  learned  and  good,  and  such 


A  Ministering  Angel 


THE  VIRGINIANS  235 

a  favourite  of  his  Majesty,  as  was  my  aunt,  too,  that  he  was 
made  a  Bishopp.  When  he  died,  Our  gracious  King  continued 
his  friendship  to  my  aunt ;  who  married  a  Hanoverian  noble- 
«»man,  who  occupied  a  post  at  the  Court — and  I  beheve  left  the 
Baroness  very  rich.  My  cousin,  my  Lord  Castlewood,  told  me 
so  much  about  her,  and  I  am  sure  /  have  found  from  her  the 
greatest  kindness  and  affection. 

"  The  (Dowager)  Countess  Castlewood  and  my  cousins  Will 
and  Lady  Fanny  have  been  described  per  last,  that  went  by 
the  Falmouth  packet  on  the  20th  ult.  The  ladies  are  not  changed 
since  then.  Me  and  Cousin  Will  are  very  good  friends.  We 
have  rode  out  a  good  deal.  We  have  had  some  famous  cocking 
matches  at  Hampton  and  Winton.  My  cousin  is  a  sharp  blade, 
but  I  think  I  have  shown  him  that  we  in  Virginia  know  a  thing 
or  two.  Reverend  Mr.  Sampson,  chaplain  of  the  famaly,  most 
excellent  preacher,  without  any  biggatry. 

"  The  kindness  of  my  cousin  the  Earl  improves  every  day,  and 
by  next  year's  ship  I  hope  my  mother  will  send  his  lordship 
some  of  our  best  roll  tobacco  (for  tennants)  and  hamms.  He  is 
most  charatable  to  the  poor.  His  sister,  Lady  Maria,  equally 
so.  She  sits  for  hours  reading  good  books  to  the  sick:  she  is 
most  beloved  in  the  village." 

"  Nonsense!  "  said  a  lady  to  whom  Harry  submitted 
his  precious  manuscript.  "  Why  do  you  flatter  me, 
cousm  ? 

"  You  are  beloved  in  the  village  and  out  of  it,"  said 
Harry,  with  a  knowing  emphasis,  "  and  I  have  flattered 
you,  as  you  call  it,  a  little  more  still,  further  on." 

"  There  is  a  sick  old  woman  there,  whom  Madam  Esmond 
would  like,  a  most  raligious,  good,  old  lady. 

"  Lady  Maria  goes  very  often  to  read  to  her ;  which,  she  says, 
gives  her  comfort.  But  though  her  Ladyshlj)  hath  the  sweet- 
est voice,  both  in  speaking  and  singeing  (she  plays  the  church 


236  THE  VIRGINIANS 

organ,  and  singes  there  most  beautifullj/),  I  cannot  think  Gammer 
Jenkins  can  have  any  comfort  from  it,  being  very  deaf,  by 
reason  of  her  great  age.  She  has  her  memory  perfectly,  how- 
ever, and  remembers  when  my  honoured  Grandmother  Rachel 
Lady  Castlewood  lived  here.  She  says,  my  Grandmother  was  the 
best  woman  in  the  whole  world,  gave  her  a  cow  when  she  was  mar- 
ried, and  cured  her  husband,  Gaffer  Jenkins,  of  the  collects, 
which  he  used  to  have  very  bad.  I  suppose  it  was  with  the  Pills 
and  Drops  which  my  honoured  Mother  put  up  in  my  boxes, 
when  I  left  dear  Virginia.  Having  never  been  ill  since,  have 
had  no  use  for  the  pills.  Gumbo  hath,  eating  and  drinking  a 
great  deal  too  much  in  the  Servants'  Hall.  The  next  angel  to 
my  Grandmother  (N.  B.  I  think  I  spelt  angel  wrong  per  last). 
Gammer  Jenkins  sa3^s,  is  Lady  Maria,  who  sends  her  duty  to  her 
Aunt  in  Virginia,  and  remembers  her,  and  my  Grandpapa  and 
Grandmama  when  they  were  in  Europe,  and  she  was  a  little 
girl.  You  know  they  have  Grandpapa's  picture  here,  and  I 
live  in  the  very  rooms  which  he  had,  and  which  are  to  be  called 
mine,  my  Lord  Castlewood  says. 

"  Having  no  more  to  say,  at  present,  I  close  with  the  best  love 
and  duty  to  my  honoured  Mother,  an^  with  respects  to  Mr. 
Dempster,  and  a  kiss  for  Fanny,  and  kind  remembrances  to  Old 
Gumbo,  Nathan,  Old  and  Young  Dinah,  and  the  pointer  dog 
and  Slut,  and  all  friends,  from  their  well-wisher 

"  Henry  Esmond  Warrington. 

"  Have  wrote  and  sent  my  duty  to  my  Uncle  Warrington  in 
Norfolk.    No  anser  as  yet." 

"I  hope  the  spelling  Is  right,  cousin?"  asked  the 
author  of  the  letter,  from  the  critic  to  whom  he  showed  it. 

"  'Tis  quite  well  enough  spelt  for  any  person  of  fash- 
ion," answered  Lady  Maria,  who  did  not  choose  to  be 
examined  too  closely  regarding  the  orthography. 

"  One  word, '  Angel,'  I  know,  I  spelt  wrong  In  writing 


-^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS  237 

to  my  mamma,  but  I  have  learned  a  way  of  spelling  it 
right  now." 

"  And  how  is  that,  sir?  " 

"  I  think  'tis  by  looking  at  you,  cousin;  "  saying  which 
words,  Mr.  Harry  made  her  ladyship  a  low  bow,  and 
accompanied  the  bow  by  one  of  his  best  blushes,  as  if  he 
were  oiFering  her  a  bow  and  a  bouquet. 


CHAPTER   XIX 


CONTAINING   BOTH   LOVE   AND   LUCK 


T  the  next  meal,  when  the 
family  party  assembled, 
there  was  not  a  trace  of 
displeasure  in  Madame 
de  Bernstein's  counte- 
nance, and  her  behaviour 
to  all  the  company,  Harry 
included,  was  perfectly 
kind  and  cordial.  She 
praised  the  cook  this  time, 
declared  the  fricassee  was 
excellent,  and  that  there 
were  no  eels  anywhere 
like  those  in  the  Castle- 
wood  moats ;  would  not  allow  that  the  wine  was  corked, 
or  hear  of  such  extravagance  as  opening  a  fresh  bottle 
for  a  useless  old  woman  like  her ;  gave  Madam  Esmond 
Warrington,  of  Virginia,  as  her  toast,  when  the  new 
wine  was  brought,  and  hoped  Harry  had  brought  away 
his  mamma's  permission  to  take  back  an  English  wife 
with  him.  He  did  not  remember  his  grandmother ;  her, 
Madame  de  Bernstein's,  dear  mother?  The  Baroness 
amused  the  company  with  numerous  stories  of  her 
mother,  of  her  beauty  and  goodness,  of  her  happiness 
with  her  second  husband,  though  the  wife  was  so  much 

238 


THE  VIRGINIANS  239 

older  than  Colonel  Esmond.  To  see  them  together,  was 
delightful,  she  had  heard.  Their  attachment  was  cele- 
brated all  through  the  country.  To  talk  of  disparitj^  in 
marriages  was  vain  after  that.  My  Lady  Castlewood 
and  her  two  children  held  their  peace  whilst  Madame 
Bernstein  prattled.  Harry  was  enraptured,  and  Maria 
surprised.  Lord  Castlewood  was  puzzled  to  know  what 
sudden  freak  or  scheme  had  occasioned  this  prodigious 
amiability  on  the  part  of  his  aunt;  but  did  not  allow 
the  slightest  expression  or  solicitude  or  doubt  to  appear 
on  his  countenance,  which  wore  every  mark  of  the  most 
perfect  satisfaction. 

The  Baroness's  good-humour  infected  the  whole  fam- 
ily; not  one  person  at  table  escaped  a  gracious  word 
from  her.  In  reply  to  some  compliment  to  Mr.  Will, 
when  that  artless  youth  uttered  an  expression  of  satis- 
faction and  surprise  at  his  aunt's  behaviour,  she  frankly 
said:  "  Complimentary,  my  dear!  Of  course  I  am.  I 
want  to  make  up  with  you  for  having  been  exceedingly 
rude  to  everybody  this  morning.  When  I  was  a  child, 
and  my  father  and  mother  were  alive,  and  lived  here,  I 
remember  I  used  to  adopt  exactly  the  same  behaviour. 
If  I  had  been  naughty  in  the  morning,  I  used  to  try 
and  coax  my  parents  at  night.  I  remember  in  this  very 
room,  at  this  very  table— oh,  ever  so  many  hundred  years 
ago! — so  coaxing  my  father,  and  mother,  and  your 
grandfather,  Harry  Esmond;  and  there  were  eels  for 
supper,  as  we  have  had  tliem  to-night,  and  it  was  that 
dish  of  collared  eels  which  brought  the  circumstance  back 
to  my  mind.  I  had  been  just  as  wayward  that  day,  when 
I  was  seven  years  old,  as  I  am  to-day,  when  I  am  seventy, 
and  so  I  confess  my  sins,  and  ask  to  be  forgiven,  like  a 
good  girl." 


240  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  I  absolve  your  ladyship,"  cried  the  chaplain,  who 
made  one  of  the  party. 

"  But  your  reverence  does  not  know  how  cross  and 
ill-tempered  I  was.  I  scolded  my  sister,  Castlewood :  I 
scolded  her  children,  I  boxed  Harry  Esmond's  ears :  and 
all  because  he  would  not  go  with  me  to  Tunbridge 
Wells." 

"  But  I  will  go,  madam;  I  will  ride  with  you  with  all 
the  pleasure  in  life,"  said  Mr.  Warrington. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Chaplain,  what  good,  dutiful  children 
they  all  are.  'Twas  I  alone  who  was  cross  and  peevish. 
Oh,  it  was  cruel  of  me  to  treat  them  so!  Maria,  I  ask 
your  pardon,  my  dear." 

"  Sure,  madam,  you  have  done  me  no  wrong,"  says 
Maria,  to  the  humble  suppliant. 

"  Indeed,  I  have,  a  very  great  wrong,  child!  Because 
I  was  weary  of  myself,  I  told  you  that  your  company 
would  be  wearisome  to  me.  You  offered  to  come  with 
me  to  Tunbridge,  and  I  rudely  refused  you." 

"  Nay,  ma'am,  if  you  were  sick,  and  my  presence  an- 
noyed you  ..." 

"  But  it  will  not  annoy  me!  You  were  most  kind  to 
say  you  would  come.  I  do,  of  all  things,  beg,  pray,  en- 
treat, implore,  command  that  you  will  come." 

My  lord  filled  himself  a  glass,  and  sipped  it.  Most 
utterly  unconscious  did  his  lordship  look.  ThiSj  then, 
was  the  meaning  of  the  previous  comedy. 

"  Anything  which  can  give  my  aunt  pleasure,  I  am 
sure,  will  delight  me,"  said  Maria,  trying  to  look  as 
happy  as  possible. 

"  You  must  come  and  stay  with  me,  my  dear,  and  I 
promise  to  be  good  and  good-humoured.  My  dear  lord, 
you  will  spare  your  sister  to  me?  " 


^^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS  241 

"  Lady  Maria  Esmond  is  quite  of  age  to  judge  for 
herself  about  such  a  matter,"  said  his  lordship,  with  a 
bow.  "  If  any  of  us  can  be  of  use  to  you,  madam,  you 
sure  ought  to  command  us."  Which  sentence,  being  in- 
terpreted, no  doubt  meant,  "  Plague  take  the  old  woman! 
She  is  taking  Maria  away  in  order  to  separate  her  from 
this  young  Virginian." 

"Oh,  Tunbridge  will  be  delightful!"  sighed  Lady 
Maria. 

"  JNIr.  Sampson  will  go  and  see  Goody  Jones  for  you," 
my  lord  continued. 

Harry  drew  pictures  with  his  finger  on  the  table. 
What  delights  had  he  not  been  speculating  on?  What 
walks,  what  rides,  what  interminable  conversations,  what 
delicious  shrubberies  and  sweet  sequestered  summer- 
houses,  what  poring  over  music-books,  what  moonlight, 
what  billing  and  cooing,  had  he  not  imagined !  Yes,  the 
day  was  coming.  They  were  all  departing — my  Lady 
Castlewood  to  her  friends,  Madame  Bernstein  to  her 
waters— and  he  was  to  be  left  alone  with  his  divine 
charmer — alone  with  her  and  unutterable  rapture!  The 
thought  of  the  pleasure  was  maddening.  That  these 
people  were  all  going  away.  That  he  was  to  be  left  to 
enjoy  that  heaven — to  sit  at  the  feet  of  that  angel  and 
kiss  the  hem  of  that  white  robe.  O  gods !  'twas  too  great 
bliss  to  be  real!  "  I  knew  it  couldn't  be,"  thought  poor 
Harry.  "  I  knew  something  would  happen  to  take  her 
from  me." 

"  But  you  will  ride  with  us  to  Tunbridge,  nephew 
Warrington,  and  keep  us  from  the  highwaymen?  "  said 
Madame  de  Bernstein. 

Harry  Warrington  hoped  the  company  did  not  see 
how  red  he  grew.    He  tried  to  keep  his  voice  calm  and 


242  THE  VIRGINIANS 

without  tremor.  Yes,  he  would  ride  with  their  ladyships, 
and  he  was  sure  they  need  fear  no  danger.  Danger! 
Harry  felt  he  would  rather  like  danger  than  not.  He 
•would  slay  ten  thousand  highwaymen  if  they  approached 
his  mistress's  coach.  At  least,  he  would  ride  by  that 
coach,  and  now  and  again  see  her  eyes  at  the  window. 
He  might  not  speak  to  her;  but  he  should  be  near  her. 
He  should  press  the  blessed  hand  at  the  inn  at  night,  and 
feel  it  reposing  on  his  as  he  led  her  to  the  carriage  at 
morning.  They  would  be  two  whole  days  going  to  Tun- 
bridge,  and  one  day  or  two  he  might  stay  there.  Is  not 
the  poor  wretch  who  is  left  for  execution  at  Newgate 
thankful  for  even  two  or  three  days  of  respite? 

You  see,  we  have  only  indicated,  we  have  not  chosen 
to  describe,  at  length,  Mr.  Harry  Warrington's  condi- 
tion, or  that  utter  depth  of  imbecility  into  which  the  poor 
young  wretch  was  now  plunged.  Some  boys  have  the 
complaint  of  love  favourably  and  gently.  Others,  when 
they  get  the  fever,  are  sick  unto  death  with  it;  or,  re- 
covering, carry  the  marks  of  the  malady  down  with  them 
to  the  grave,  or  to  remotest  old  age.  I  say,  it  is  not  fair 
to  take  down  a  young  fellow's  words  when  he  is  raging 
in  that  delirium.  Suppose  he  is  in  love  with  a  woman 
twice  as  old  as  himself,  have  we  not  all  read  of  the  young 
gentleman  who  committed  suicide  in  consequence  of  his 
fatal  passion  for  Mademoiselle  Ninon  de  I'Enclos  who 
turned  out  to  be  his  grandmother?  Suppose  thou  art 
making  an  ass  of  thyself,  young  Harry  Warrington,  of 
Virginia!  are  there  not  people  in  England  who  heehaw 
too?  Kick  and  abuse  him,  you  who  have  never  brayed; 
but  bear  with  him,  all  honest  fellow -cardophagi :  long- 
eared  messmates,  recognise  a  brother  donkey ! 

"  You  will  stay  with  us  for  a  day  or  two  at  the  Wells," 


THE  VIRGINIANS  243 

Madame  Bernstein  continued.  "  You  will  see  us  put 
into  our  lodgings.  Then  you  can  return  to  Castlewood 
and  the  partridge-shooting,  and  all  the  fine  things  which 
^>  you  and  my  lord  are  to  study  together." 

Harry  bowed  an  acquiescence.  A  whole  week  of 
heaven !    Life  was  not  altogether  a  blank,  then. 

"  And  as  there  is  sure  to  be  plenty  of  company  at  the 
Wells,  I  shall  be  able  to  present  you,"  the  lady  graciously 
added. 

"Company!  ah!  I  shan't  need  company,"  sighed  out 
Harry.  "  I  mean  that  I  shall  be  quite  contented  in  the 
company  of  you  two  ladies,"  he  added,  eagerly;  and  no 
doubt  Mr.  Will  wondered  at  his  cousin's  taste. 

As  this  was  to  be  the  last  night  of  Cousin  Harry's 
present  visit  to  Castlewood,  Cousin  Will  suggested  that 
he,  and  his  Reverence,  and  Warrington  should  meet  at 
the  quarters  of  the  latter  and  make  up  accounts,  to  which 
process,  Harry,  being  a  considerable  winner  in  his  play 
transactions  with  the  two  gentlemen,  had  no  objection. 
Accordingly,  when  the  ladies  retired  for  the  night,  and 
my  lord  withdrew — as  his  custom  was — to  his  own  apart- 
ments, the  three  gentlemen  all  found  themselves  assem- 
bled in  Mr.  Harry's  little  room  before  the  punch-bowl, 
which  was  Will's  usual  midnight  companion. 

But  Will's  method  of  settling  accounts  was  by  pro- 
ducing a  couple  of  fresh  packs  of  cards,  and  offering  to 
submit  Harry's  debt  to  the  process  of  being  doubled  or  ac- 
quitted. The  poor  chaplain  had  no  more  ready  cash  than 
Lord  Castlewood's  younger  brother.  Harry  Warring- 
ton wanted  to  win  the  money  of  neither.  Would  he  give 
pain  to  the  brother  of  his  adored  Maria,  or  allow  any  one 
of  her  near  kinsfolk  to  tax  him  with  any  want  of  gener- 
osity or  forbearance?    He  was  ready  to  give  them  their 


244  THE  VIRGINIANS 

revenge,  as  the  gentlemen  proposed.  Up  to  midnight 
he  would  play  with  them  for  what  stakes  they  chose  to 
name.  And  so  they  set  to  work,  and  the  dice-box  was 
rattled  and  the  cards  shuffled  and  dealt. 

Very  likely  he  did  not  think  about  the  cards  at  all.  Very 
likely  he  was  thinking: — "At  this  moment,  my  beloved 
one  is  sitting  with  her  beauteous  golden  locks  outspread 
under  the  fingers  of  her  maid.  Happy  maid !  Now  she 
is  on  her  knees,  the  sainted  creature,  addressing  prayers 
to  that  heaven  which  is  the  abode  of  angels  like  her.  Now 
she  has  sunk  to  rest  behind  her  damask  curtains.  O  bless, 
bless  her! "  *'  You  double  us  all  round?  I  will  take  a 
card  upon  each  of  my  two.  Thank  you,  that  will  do — a 
ten — now,  upon  the  other,  a  queen, — two  natural  vingt- 
et-uns,  and  as  you  doubled  us  you  owe  me  so  and  so." 

I  imagine  volleys  of  oaths  from  Mr.  William,  and 
brisk  pattering  of  imprecations  from  his  Reverence,  at 
the  young  Virginian's  luck.  He  won  because  he  did  not 
want  to  win.  Fortune,  that  notoriously  coquettish  jade, 
came  to  him,  because  he  was  thinking  of  another  nymph, 
who  possibly  was  as  fickle.  Will  and  the  chaplain  may 
have  played  against  him,  solicitous  constantly  to  increase 
their  stakes,  and  supposing  that  the  wealthy  Virginian 
wished  to  let  them  recover  all  their  losings.  But  this  was 
by  no  means  Harry  Warrington's  notion.  When  he  was 
at  home  he  had  taken  a  part  in  scores  of  such  games  as 
these  (whereby  we  may  be  led  to  suppose  that  he  kept 
many  little  circumstances  of  his  life  mum  from  his  lady 
mother),  and  had  learned  to  play  and  pay.  And  as  he 
practised  fair  play  towards  his  friends  he  expected  it 
from  them  in  return. 

"  The  luck  does  seem  to  be  with  me,  cousin,"  he  said, 
in  reply  to  some  more  oaths  and  growls  of  Will,  "  and 


«<J- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  245 

I  am  sure  I  do  not  want  to  press  it ;  but  you  don't  sup- 
pose I  am  going  to  be  such  a  fool  as  to  fling  it  away  alto- 
gether? I  have  quite  a  heap  of  your  promises  on  paper 
by  this  time.  If  we  are  to  go  on  playing,  let  us  have  the 
dollars  on  the  table,  if  you  please ;  or,  if  not  the  money, 
the  worth  of  it." 

"  Always  the  way  with  you  rich  men,"  grumbled  Will. 
"  Never  lend  except  on  security — always  win  because 
you  are  rich." 

"  Faith,  cousin,  you  have  been  of  late  for  ever  flinging 
my  riches  into  my  face.  I  have  enough  for  my  wants 
and  for  my  creditors." 

"  Oh,  that  we  could  all  say  as  much,"  groaned  the 
chaplain.  "  How  happy  we,  and  how  happy  the  duns 
would  be!  What  have  we  got  to  play  against  our  con- 
queror? There  is  my  new  gown,  Mr.  Warrington.  Will 
you  set  me  five  pieces  against  it?  I  have  but  to  preach  in 
stuff  if  I  lose.  Stop !  I  have  a  '  Chrysostom,'  a  '  Fox's 
Martyrs,'  a  '  Baker's  Chronicle,'  and  a  cow  and  her  calf. 
What  shall  we  set  against  these?  " 

"  I  will  bet  one  of  Cousin  Will's  notes  for  twenty 
pounds,"  cried  Mr.  Warrington,  producing  one  of  those 
documents. 

"  Or  I  have  my  black  mare,  and  will  back  her  not 
against  your  honour's  notes  of  hand,  but  against  ready 
money." 

"  I  have  my  horse.  I  will  back  my  horse  against  you 
for  fifty!  "bawls  out  Will. 

Harry  took  the  offers  of  both  gentlemen.  In  the 
course  of  ten  minutes  the  horse  and  the  black  mare  had 
both  changed  owners.  Cousin  William  swore  more 
fiercely  than  ever.  The  parson  dashed  his  wig  to  the 
ground,  and  emulated  his  pupil  in  the  loudness  of  his 


24G  THE  VIRGINIANS 

objurgations.  Mr.  Harry  Warrington  was  quite  calm, 
and  not  the  least  elated  by  his  triumphs.  They  had 
asked  him  to  play,  and  he  had  played.  He  knew  he 
should  win.  Oh  beloved  slumbering  angel!  he  thought, 
am  I  not  sure  of  victory  when  you  are  kind  to  me?  He 
was  looking  out  from  his  window  towards  the  casement 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  court,  which  he  knew  to  be 
hers.  He  had  forgot  about  his  victims  and  their  groans, 
and  ill  luck,  ere  they  crossed  the  court.  Under  yonder 
brilliant  flickering  star,  behind  yonder  casement  where 
the  lamp  was  burning  faintly,  was  his  joy,  and  heart, 
and  treasure. 


^^ 


CHAPTER  XX 


FACILIS   DESCENSUS 


•'-^^^^. 


^'HILST  the  good  old  Bishop 
of  Cambray,  in  his  romance 
lately  mentioned,  described 
the  disconsolate  condition  of 
Calypso  at  the  departure  of 
Ulysses,  I  forget  whether  he 
mentioned  the  grief  of  Ca- 
lypso's lady's-maid  on  taking 
leave  of  Odysseus's  own  gen- 
tleman. The  menials  must 
have  wept  together  in  the 
kitchen  precincts  whilst  the 
master  and  mistress  took  a 
last  wild  embrace  in  the  drawing-room ;  they  must  have 
hung  round  each  other  in  the  fore-cabin,  whilst  their 
principals  broke  their  hearts  in  the  grand-saloon.  When 
the  bell  rang  for  the  last  time,  and  Ulysses's  mate 
bawled,  "  Now!  any  one  for  shore!  "  Calypso  and  her 
female  attendant  must  have  both  walked  over  the  same 
plank,  with  beating  hearts  and  streaming  eyes;  both 
must  have  waved  pocket-handkerchiefs  ( of  far  different 
value  and  texture),  as  they  stood  on  the  quay,  to  their 
friends  on  the  departing  vessel,  whilst  the  people  on 
the  land  and  the  crew  crowding  in  the  ship's  bows 
shouted.  Hi]),  hip,  huzzay  (or  whatever  may  be  the 
equivalent  Greek  for  the  salutation)  to  all  engaged  on 

247 


248  THE  VIRGINIANS 

that  voj^age.  But  the  point  to  be  remembered  is,  that 
if  Calypso  nc  pouvait  se  consoler.  Calypso's  maid  ne 
pouvait  se  consoler  non  plus.  They  had  to  walk  the 
same  plank  of  grief,  and  feel  the  same  pang  of  separa- 
tion; on  their  return  home,  they  might  not  use  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  of  the  same  texture  and  value,  but  the 
tears,  no  doubt,  were  as  salt  and  plentiful  which  one  shed 
in  her  marble  halls,  and  the  other  poured  forth  in  the 
servants'  ditto. 

Not  only  did  Harry  Warrington  leave  Castlewood  a 
victim  to  love,  but  Gumbo  quitted  the  same  premises  a 
prey  to  the  same  delightful  passion.  His  wit,  ac- 
complishments, good-humour,  his  skill  in  dancing,  cook- 
ery, and  music,  had  endeared  him  to  the  whole  female 
domestic  circle.  More  than  one  of  the  men  might  be 
jealous  of  him,  but  the  ladies  all  were  with  him.  There 
was  no  such  objection  to  the  poor  black  men  then  in 
England  as  has  obtained  since  among  white-skinned 
people.  Theirs  w^s  a  condition  not  perhaps  of  equality, 
but  they  had  a  sufferance  and  a  certain  grotesque  sym- 
pathy from  all ;  and  from  women,  no  doubt,  a  kindness 
much  more  generous.  When  Ledyard  and  Park,  in 
Blackmansland,  were  persecuted  by  the  men,  did  they 
not  find  the  black  women  pitiful  and  kind  to  them? 
Women  are  always  kind  towards  our  sex.  What  (men- 
tal) negroes  do  they  not  cherish?  what  (moral)  hunch- 
backs do  they  not  adore?  what  lepers,  what  idiots,  what 
dull  drivellers,  what  misshapen  monsters  (I  speak  fig- 
uratively) do  they  not  fondle  and  cuddle?  Gumbo  was 
treated  by  the  women  as  kindly  as  many  people  no  bet- 
ter than  himself:  it  was  only  the  men  in  the  servants'- 
hall  who  rejoiced  at  the  Virginian  lad's  departure.  I 
should  like  to  see  him  taking  leave.     I  should  like  to 


THE  VIRGINIANS  249 

see  JNIolly,  housemaid,  stealing  to  the  terrace-gardens  in 
the  grey  dawning  to  cull  a  wistful  posy.  I  should  like 
to  see  Betty,  kitchenmaid,  cutting  off  a  thick  lock  of 
her  chestnut  ringlets  which  she  proposed  to  exchange 
for  a  woolly  token  from  j^oung  Gumbo's  pate.  Of 
course  he  said  he  was  regum  iwogenies,  a  descendant  of 
Ashantee  kings.  In  CafFraria,  Connaught,  and  other 
places  now  inhabited  by  hereditary  bondsmen,  there 
must  have  been  vast  numbers  of  these  potent  sovereigns 
in  former  times,  to  judge  from  their  descendants  now 
extant. 

At  the  morning  announced  for  Madame  de  Bern- 
stein's departure,  all  the  numerous  domestics  of  Castle- 
wood  crowded  about  the  doors  and  passages,  some  to 
have  a  last  glimpse  of  her  ladyship's  men  and  the  fas- 
cinating Gumbo,  some  to  take  leave  of  her  ladyship's 
maid,  all  to  waylay  the  Baroness  and  her  nephew  for 
parting  fees,  which  it  was  the  custom  of  that  day  largely 
to  distribute  among  household  servants.  One  and  the 
other  gave  liberal  gratuities  to  the  liveried  society,  to 
the  gentlemen  in  black  and  ruffles,  and  to  the  swarm  of 
female  attendants.  Castlewood  was  the  home  of  the 
Baroness's  youth,  and  as  for  her  honest  Harry,  who 
had  not  only  lived  at  free  charges  in  the  house,  but  had 
won  horses  and  money — or  promises  of  money — from 
his  cousin  and  the  unlucky  chaplain,  he  was  naturally  of 
a  generous  turn,  and  felt  that  at  this  moment  he  ought 
not  to  stint  his  benevolent  disposition.  "  My  mother, 
I  know,"  he  thought,  "  will  wish  me  to  be  liberal  to  all 
the  retainers  of  the  Esmond  family."  So  he  scattered 
about  his  gold  pieces  to  right  and  left,  and  as  if  he  had 
been  as  rich  as  Gvmibo  announced  him  to  be.  There  was 
no  one  who  came  near  him  but  had  a  share  in  his  bounty. 


250  THE  VIRGINIANS 

From  the  major-domo  to  the  shoe-black,  Mr.  Harry  had 
a  peace-offering  for  them  all.  To  the  grim  housekeeper 
in  her  still  room,  to  the  feeble  old  porter  in  his  lodge  he 
distributed  some  token  of  his  remembrance.  When  a 
man  is  in  love  with  one  woman  in  a  family,  it  is  aston- 
ishing how  fond  he  becomes  of  every  person  connected 
with  it.  He  ingratiates  himself  with  the  maids;  he  is 
bland  with  the  butler;  he  interests  himself  about  the 
footman;  he  runs  on  errands  for  the  daughters;  he 
gives  advice  and  lends  money  to  the  young  son  at  col- 
lege ;  he  pats  little  dogs  which  he  would  kick  otherwise ; 
he  smiles  at  old  stories  which  would  make  him  break  out 
in  yawns,  were  they  uttered  by  any  one  but  papa;  he 
drinks  sweet  port  wane  for  which  he  would  curse  the 
steward  and  the  whole  committee  of  a  club;  he  bears 
even  with  the  cantankerous  old  maiden  aunt;  he  beats 
time  when  darling  little  Fanny  performs  her  piece  on 
the  piano;  and  smiles  when  wicked,  lively  little  Bobby 
upsets  the  coffee  over  his  shirt. 

Harry  Warrington,  in  his  way,  and  according  to  the 
customs  of  that  age,  had  for  a  brief  time  past  (by 
which  I  conclude  that  only  for  a  brief  time  had  his  love 
been  declared  and  accepted)  given  to  the  Castlewood 
famil}^  all  these  artless  testimonies  of  his  affection  for 
one  of  them.  Cousin  Will  should  have  won  back  his 
money  and  welcome,  or  have  won  as  much  of  Harry's 
own  as  the  lad  could  spare.  Nevertheless,  the  lad, 
though  a  lover,  was  shrewd,  keen,  and  fond  of  sport  and 
fair  play,  and  a  judge  of  a  good  horse  when  he  saw  one. 
Having  played  for  and  won  all  the  money  which  Will 
had,  besides  a  great  number  of  Mr.  Esmond's  valuable 
autographs,  Harry  was  very  well  pleased  to  win  Will's 
brown  horse — that  very  quadruped  which  had  nearly 


THE  VIRGINIANS  251 

pushed  him  into  the  water  on  the  first  evening  of  his 
arrival  at  Castlewood.  He  had  seen  the  horse's  per- 
formance often,  and,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  passion  and 
^  romance,  was  not  sorry  to  be  possessed  of  such  a  sound, 
swift,  well-bred  hunter  and  roadster.  When  he  had 
gazed  at  the  stars  sufficiently  as  they  shone  over  his  mis- 
tress's window,  and  put  her  candle  to  bed,  he  repaired 
to  his  own  dormitory,  and  there,  no  doubt,  thought  of 
his  Maria  and  his  horse  with  youthful  satisfaction,  and 
how  sweet  it  would  be  to  have  one  pillioned  on  the  other, 
and  to  make  the  tour  of  all  the  island  on  such  an  animal 
with  such  a  pair  of  white  arms  round  his  waist.  He 
fell  asleep  ruminating  on  these  things,  and  meditating 
a  million  of  blessings  on  his  Maria,  in  whose  company 
he  was  to  luxuriate  at  least  for  a  week  more. 

In  the  early  morning  poor  Chaplain  Sampson  sent 
over  his  little  black  mare  by  the  hands  of  his  groom,  foot- 
man, and  gardener,  who  wept  and  bestowed  a  great 
number  of  kisses  on  the  beast's  white  nose  as  he  handed 
him  over  to  Gumbo.  Gumbo  and  his  master  were  both 
affected  by  the  fellow's  sensibility;  the  negro  servant 
showing  his  sympathy  by  weeping,  and  Harry  by  pro- 
ducing a  couple  of  guineas,  with  which  he  astonished  and 
speedily  comforted  the  chaplain's  boy.  Then  Gumbo 
and  the  late  groom  led  the  beast  away  to  the  stable, 
having  commands  to  bring  him  round  with  Mr.  Wil- 
liam's horse  after  breakfast,  at  the  hour  when  Madame 
Bernstein's  carriages  were  ordered. 

So  courteous  was  he  to  his  aunt,  or  so  grateful  for 
her  departure,  that  the  master  of  the  house  even  made  his 
appearance  at  the  morning  meal,  in  order  to  take  leave 
of  his  guests.  The  ladies  and  the  chaplain  were  present 
— the  only  member  of  the  family  absent  was  Will :  who. 


252  THE  VIRGINIANS 

however,  left  a  note  for  his  cousin,  in  which  Will  stated, 
in  exceedingly  had  spelling,  that  he  was  obliged  to  go 
awa}^  to  Salisbury  races  that  morning,  but  that  he  had 
left  the  horse  which  his  cousin  won  last  night,  and  which 
Tom,  Mr.  Will's  groom,  would  hand  over  to  Mr.  War- 
rington's servant.  Will's  absence  did  not  prevent  the 
rest  of  the  party  from  drinking  a  dish  of  tea  amicably, 
and  in  due  time  the  carriages  rolled  into  the  courtyard, 
the  servants  packed  them  with  the  Baroness's  multi- 
plied luggage,  and  the  moment  of  departure  arrived. 

A  large  open  landau  contained  the  stout  Baroness  and 
her  niece;  a  couple  of  men-servants  mounting  on  the 
box  before  them  with  pistols  and  blunderbusses  ready 
in  event  of  a  meeting  with  highwaymen.  In  another 
carriage  were  their  ladyships'  maids,  and  another  ser- 
vant in  guard  of  the  trunks,  which,  vast  and  numer- 
ous as  they  were,  were  as  nothing  compared  to  the  enor- 
mous baggage-train  accompanying  a  lady  of  the  present 
time.  Mr.  Warrington's  modest  valises  were  placed  in 
this  second  carriage  under  the  maids'  guardianship,  and 
Mr.  Gumbo  proposed  to  ride  by  the  window  for  the  chief 
part  of  the  journey. 

jNIy  lord,  with  his  step-mother  and  Lady  Fanny,  ac- 
companied their  kinswoman  to  the  carriage-steps,  and 
bade  her  farewell  with  many  dutiful  embraces.  The 
Lady  Maria  followed  in  a  riding-dress,  which  Harry 
Warrington  thought  the  most  becoming  costume  in  the 
world.  A  host  of  servants  stood  around,  and  begged 
heaven  bless  her  ladyship.  The  Baroness's  dei^arture  was 
known  in  the  village,  and  scores  of  the  folks  there  stood 
waiting  under  the  trees  outside  the  gates,  and  huzzayed 
and  waved  their  hats  as  the  ponderous  vehicles  rolled 
away. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  253 

Gumbo  was  gone  for  INIr.  Warrington's  horses,  as 
my  lord,  with  his  arm  under  his  young  guest's,  paced 
up  and  down  the  court.  "  I  hear  you  carry  away  some 
:$:  of  our  horses  out  of  Castlewood?  "  my  lord  said. 

Harry  blushed.  "  A  gentleman  cannot  refuse  a  fair 
game  at  the  cards,"  he  said.  "I  never  wanted  to  play, 
nor  would  have  played  for  money  had  not  my  cousin 
William  forced  me.  As  for  the  chaplain,  it  went  to  my 
heart  to  win  from  him,  but  he  was  as  eager  as  my 


cousm 


f  " 


I  know — I  know!  There  is  no  blame  to  you,  my 
boy.  At  Rome  you  can't  help  doing  as  Rome  does ;  and 
I  am  verj^  glad  that  you  have  been  able  to  give  Will  a 
lesson.  He  is  mad  about  play — would  gamble  his  coat 
off  his  back — and  I  and  the  family  have  had  to  pay  his 
debts  ever  so  many  times.  May  I  ask  how  much  you 
have  won  of  him?  " 

"  Well,  some  eighteen  pieces  the  first  day  or  two,  and 
his  note  for  a  hundred  and  twenty  more,  and  the  brown 
horse,  fifty — that  makes  nigh  upon  two  hundred.  But, 
you  know,  cousin,  all  was  fair,  and  it  was  even  against 
my  will  that  we  played  at  all.  Will  ain't  a  match  for  me, 
my  lord — that  is  the  fact.    Indeed  he  is  not." 

"  He  is  a  match  for  most  people,  though,"  said  my 
lord.    "  His  brown  horse,  I  think  you  said?  " 

"  Yes.  His  brown  horse — Prince  William,  out  of 
Constitution.  You  don't  suppose  I  would  set  him  fifty 
against  his  bay,  my  lord?  " 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  know.  I  saw  Will  riding  out  this 
morning,  most  likely  I  did  not  remark  what  horse  he 
was  on.     And  you  won  the  black  mare  from  the  par- 


son? " 


For  fourteen.     He  will  mount  Gumbo  very  well. 


254  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Whj^  does  not  the  rascal  come  round  with  the  horses?  " 
Harry's  mind  was  away  to  lovely  Maria.  He  longed  to 
be  trotting  by  her  side. 

"  When  you  get  to  Tunbridge,  Cousin  Harry,  you 
must  be  on  the  look-out  against  sharper  players  than  the 
chaplain  and  Will.  There  is  all  sorts  of  queer  company 
at  the  Wells."  • 

"  A  Virginian  learns  pretty  early  to  take  care  of  him- 
self, my  lord,"  says  Harry,  with  a  knowing  nod. 

"  So  it  seems!  I  recommend  my  sister  to  thee,  Harry. 
Although  she  is  not  a  baby  in  years,  she  is  as  innocent 
as  one.     Thou  wilt  see  that  she  comes  to  no  mischief? " 

"I  will  guard  her  with  my  life,  my  lord!"  cries 
Harry. 

"  Thou  art  a  brave  fellow.  By  the  way,  cousin,  unless 
you  are  very  fond  of  Castiewood,  I  would  in  your  case 
not  be  in  a  great  hurry  to  return  to  this  lonely,  tumble- 
down old  house.  I  want  myself  to  go  to  another  place 
I  have,  and  shall  scarce  be  back  here  till  the  partridge- 
shooting.  Go  you  and  take  charge  of  the  women,  of 
my  sister  and  the  Baroness,  will  you?  " 

"  Indeed  I  will,"  said  Harry,  his  heart  beating  with 
happiness  at  the  thought. 

"  And  I  will  write  thee  word  when  you  shall  bring 
my  sister  back  to  me.  Here  come  the  horses.  Have  you 
bid  adieu  to  the  countess  and  Lady  Fanny?  They  are 
kissing  their  hands  to  j^ou  from  the  music-room  bal- 
cony." 

Harry  ran  up  to  bid  these  ladies  a  farewell.  He 
made  that  ceremony  very  brief,  for  he  was  anxious  to 
be  off  to  the  charmer  of  his  heart ;  and  came  down  stairs 
to  mount  his  newly-gotten  steed,  which  Gumbo,  him- 
self astride  on  the  parson's  black  mare,  held  by  the  rein. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  255 

There  was  Gumbo  on  the  black  mare  4ndeed,  and  hold- 
ing another  horse.  But  it  was  a  bay  horse — not  a  brown 
— a  baj^  horse  with  broken  knees — an  aged,  worn-out 
;.  quadruped. 

"  What  is  this?  "  cries  Harry. 

"  Your  honour's  new  horse,"  says  the  groom,  touching 
his  cap. 

"  This  brute?"  exclaims  the  young  gentleman,  with 
one  or  more  of  those  expressions  then  in  use  in  England 
and  Virginia.  "  Go  and  bring  me  round  Prince  Wil- 
liam, Mr.  William's  horse,  the  brown  horse." 

"  Mr.  William  have  rode  Prince  William  this  morn- 
ing away  to  Salisbury  races.  His  last  words  was, '  Sam, 
saddle  my  bay  horse,  Cato,  for  Mr.  Warrington  this 
morning.  He  is  Mr.  Warrington's  horse  now.  I  sold 
him  to  him  last  night.'  And  I  know  your  honour  is 
bountiful:   you  will  consider  the  groom." 

My  lord  could  not  help  breaking  into  a  laugh  at  these 
words  of  Sam,  the  groom,  whilst  Harry,  for  his  part, 
indulged  in  a  number  more  of  those  remarks  which 
politeness  does  not  admit  of  our  inserting  here. 

"  Mr.  William  said  he  never  could  think  of  parting 
with  the  Prince  under  a  hundred  and  twenty,"  said  the 
groom,  looking  at  the  young  man. 

Lord  Castlewood  only  laughed  the  more.  "  Will 
has  been  too  much  for  thee,  Harry  Warrington." 

"  Too  much  for  me,  my  lord!  So  may  a  fellow  with 
loaded  dice  throw  sixes,  and  be  too  much  for  me.  I  do 
not  call  this  betting,  I  call  it  ch — " 

"  Mr.  Warrington!  Spare  me  bad  words  about  my 
})rother,  if  you  please.  Depend  on  it,  I  will  take  care 
that  you  are  righted.  Farewell.  Ride  quickly,  or  your 
coaches  will  be  at  Farnham  before  you ;  "  and  waving 


256  THE  VIRGINIANS 

him  an  adieu,  my  lord  entered  into  the  house,  whilst 
Harry  and  his  companion  rode  out  of  the  courtyard. 
The  young  Virginian  was  much  too  eager  to  rejoin  the 
carriages  and  his  charmer,  to  remark  the  glances  of  un- 
utterable love  and  affection  which  Gumbo  shot  from 
his  fine  eyes  towards  a  young  creature  in  the  porter's 
lodge. 

When  the  youth  was  gone,  the  chaplain  and  my  lord 
sat  down  to  finish  their  breakfast  in  peace  and  comfort. 
The  two  ladies  did  not  return  to  this  meal. 

"  That  was  one  of  Will's  confounded  rascally  tricks," 
says  my  lord,  "  If  our  cousin  breaks  Will's  head  I  should 
not  wonder." 

"  He  is  used  to  the  operation,  my  lord,  and  yet,"  adds 
the  chaplain,  with  a  grin,  "  when  we  were  playing  last 
night,  the  colour  of  the  horse  was  not  mentioned.  I 
could  not  escape,  having  but  one:  and  the  black  boy 
has  ridden  off  on  him.  The  young  Virginian  plays  like 
a  man,  to  do  him  justice." 

"  He  wins  because  he  does  not  care  about  losing.  I 
think  there  can  be  little  doubt  but  that  he  is  very  well 
to  do.  His  mother's  law-agents  are  my  lawyers,  and 
they  write  that  the  property  is  quite  a  principality,  and 
grows  richer  every  year." 

"  If  it  were  a  kingdom  I  know  whom  Mr.  Warring- 
ton would  make  queen  of  it,"  said  the  obsequious  chap- 
lain. 

"  Who  can  account  for  taste,  parson? "  asks  his  lord- 
ship, with  a  sneer.  "  All  men  are  so.  The  first  woman 
I  was  in  love  with  myself  was  forty;  and  as  jealous  as 
if  she  had  been  fifteen.  It  runs  in  the  family.  Colo- 
nel Esmond  (he  in  scarlet  and  the  breastplate  yonder) 
married  my  grandmother,  who  was  almost  old  enough 


THE  VIRGINIANS  257 

to  be  his.  If  this  lad  chooses  to  take  out  an  elderly 
princess  to  Virginia,  we  must  not  baulk  him." 

" 'Twere  a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished!" 

T>  cries  the  chaplain.     "  Had  I  not  best  go  to  Tunbridge 

Wells  myself,  my  lord,  and  be  on  the  spot,  and  read)'- 

to  exercise  my  sacred  function  in  behalf  of  the  young 

couple?  " 

"  You  shall  have  a  pair  of  new  nags,  parson,  if  you 
do,"  said  my  lord.  And  with  this  we  leave  them  peace- 
able over  a  pipe  of  tobacco  after  breakfast. 

Harry  was  in  such  a  haste  to  join  the  carriages  that 
he  almost  forgot  to  take  off  his  hat,  and  acknowledge 
the  cheers  of  the  Castlewood  villagers:  they  all  liked 
the  lad,  whose  frank  cordial  ways  and  honest  face  got 
him  a  welcome  in  most  places.  Legends  were  still  ex- 
tant in  Castlewood  of  his  grandparents,  and  how  his 
grandfather,  Colonel  Esmond,  might  have  been  Lord 
Castlewood,  but  would  not.  Old  Lockwood  at  the  gate 
often  told  of  the  Colonel's  gallantry  in  Queen  Anne's 
wars.  His  feats  were  exaggerated,  the  behaviour  of 
the  present  family  was  contrasted  with  that  of  the  old 
lord  and  lady:  who  might  not  have  been  very  popular 
in  their  time,  but  were  better  folks  than  those  now  in 
possession.  Lord  Castlewood  was  a  hard  landlord :  per- 
haps more  disliked  because  he  was  known  to  be  poor 
and  embarrassed  than  because  he  was  severe.  As  for 
Mr.  Will,  nobody  was  fond  of  him.  The  young  gentle- 
man had  had  many  brawls  and  quarrels  about  the  vil- 
lage, had  received  and  given  broken  heads,  had  bills  in 
the  neighbouring  towns  which  he  could  not  or  would 
not  pay;  had  been  arraigned  before  magistrates  for 
tampering  with  village  girls,  and  waylaid  and  cudgelled 


258  THE  VIRGINIANS 

by  injured  husbands,  fathers,  sweethearts.  A  hundred 
years  ago  his  character  and  actions  might  have  been  de- 
scribed at  length  by  the  painter  of  manners;  but  the 
Comic  JNIuse,  now-a-daj^s,  does  not  lift  up  Molly  Sea- 
grim's  curtain;  she  only  indicates  the  presence  of  some 
one  behind  it,  and  passes  on  primly,  with  expressions 
of  horror,  and  a  fan  before  her  eyes.  The  village  had 
heard  how  the  young  Virginian  squire  had  beaten  Mr. 
Will  at  riding,  at  jumping,  at  shooting,  and  finally  at 
card-playing,  for  everything  is  known;  and  they  re- 
spected Harry  all  the  more  for  this  superiority.  Above 
all,  they  admired  him  on  account  of  the  reputation  of 
enormous  wealth  which  Gumbo  had  made  for  his  mas- 
ter. This  fame  had  travelled  over  the  whole  county, 
and  was  preceding  him  at  this  moment  on  the  boxes  of 
Madame  Bernstein's  carriages,  from  which  the  valets, 
as  they  descended  at  the  inns  to  bait,  spread  astounding 
reports  of  the  young  Virginian's  rank  and  splendour. 
He  was  a  prince  in  his  own  country.  He  had  gold 
mines,  diamond  mines,  furs,  tobaccos,  who  knew  what,  or 
how  much?  No  wonder  the  honest  Britons  cheered  him 
and  respected  him  for  his  prosperity,  as  the  noble- 
hearted  fellows  always  do.  I  am  surprised  city  corpora- 
tions did  not  address  him,  and  offer  gold  boxes  with  the 
freedom  of  the  city— he  was  so  rich.  Ah,  a  proud  thing 
it  is  to  be  a  Briton,  and  think  that  there  is  no  country 
where  prosperity  is  so  much  respected  as  in  ours:  and 
where  success  receives  such  constant  affecting  testi- 
monials of  loyalty. 

So,  leaving  the  villagers  bawling,  and  their  hats  toss- 
ing in  the  air,  Harry  spurred  his  sorrj^  beast,  and  gal- 
loped, with  Gumbo  behind  him,  until  he  came  up  with 
the  cloud  of  dust  in  the  midst  of  which  his  charmer's 


THE  VIRGINIANS  259 

chariot  was  enveloped.  Penetrating  into  this  cloud,  he 
found  himself  at  the  window  of  the  carriage.  The  Lady 
JNIaria  had  the  back  seat  to  herself;  by  keeping  a  little 
^  behind  the  wheels,  he  could  have  the  delight  of  seeing 
her  divine  eyes  and  smiles.  She  held  a  finger  to  her  lip. 
INIadame  Bernstein  was  already  dozing  on  her  cushions. 
Harry  did  not  care  to  disturb  the  old  lady.  To  look  at 
his  cousin  was  bliss  enough  for  him.  The  landscape 
around  him  might  be  beautiful,  but  what  did  he  heed  it? 
All  the  skies  and  trees  of  summer  were  as  nothing  com- 
pared to  yonder  face ;  the  hedgerow  birds  sang  no  such 
sweet  music  as  her  sweet  monosyllables. 

The  Baroness's  fat  horses  were  accustomed  to  short 
journeys,  easy  paces,  and  plenty  of  feeding;  so  that, 
ill  as  Harry  Warrington  was  mounted,  he  could,  with- 
out much  difficulty,  keep  pace  with  his  elderly  kins- 
woman. At  two  o'clock  they  baited  for  a  couple  of 
hours  for  dinner.  Mr.  Warrington  paid  the  landlord 
generously.  What  price  could  be  too  great  for  the 
pleasure  which  he  enjoyed  in  being  near  his  adored 
Maria,  and  having  the  blissful  chance  of  a  conversa- 
tion with  her,  scarce  interrupted  by  the  soft  breathing 
of  Madame  de  Bernstein,  who,  after  a  comfortable  meal, 
indulged  in  an  agreeable  half -hour's  slumber?  In 
voices  soft  and  low,  Maria  and  her  young  gentleman 
talked  over  and  over  again  tliose  delicious  nonsenses 
which  people  in  Harry's  condition  never  tire  of  hearing 
and  uttering. 

They  were  going  to  a  crowded  watering-place,  where 
all  sorts  of  beauty  and  fashion  would  be  assembled; 
timid  Maria  was  certain  that  amongst  the  young  beau- 
ties, Harry  would  discover  some  whose  charms  were  far 
more   worthy   to   occu])y   his    attention    than   any   her 


2G0  THE  VIRGINIANS 

homely  face  and  figure  could  boast  of.  By  all  the  gods 
Harry  vowed  that  Venus  herself  could  not  tempt  him 
from  her  side.  It  was  he  who  for  his  part  had  occasion 
to  fear.  When  the  young  men  of  fashion  beheld  his 
peerless  Maria  they  would  crowd  round  her  car;  they 
would  cause  her  to  forget  the  rough  and  humble  Ameri- 
can lad  who  knew  nothing  of  fashion  or  wit,  who  had 
only  a  faithful  heart  at  her  service. 

JNIaria  smiles,  she  casts  her  eyes  to  heaven,  she  vows 
that  Harry  knows  nothing  of  the  truth  and  fidelity  of 
woman ;  it  is  his  sex,  on  the  contrary,  which  proverbially 
is  faithless,  and  which  delights  to  play  with  poor  female 
hearts.  A  scuffle  ensues ;  a  clatter  is  heard  among  the 
knives  and  forks  of  the  dessert;  a  glass  tumbles  over 
and  breaks.  An  "  Oh!  "  escapes  from  the  innocent  lips 
of  JNIaria.  The  disturbance  has  been  caused  by  the 
broad  cuiF  of  INIr.  Warrington's  coat,  which  has  been 
stretched  across  the  table  to  seize  Lady  Maria's  hand, 
and  has  upset  the'  wine-glass  in  so  doing.  Surely 
nothing  could  be  more  natural,  or  indeed  necessary,  than 
that  Harry,  upon  hearing  his  sex's  honour  impeached, 
should  seize  upon  his  fair  accuser's  hand,  and  vow  eter- 
nal fidelity  upon  those  charming  fingers? 

What  a  part  they  play,  or  used  to  play,  in  love-mak- 
ing, those  hands!  How  quaintly  they  are  squeezed  at 
that  period  of  life!  How  they  are  pushed  into  conver- 
sation! what  absurd  vows  and  protests  are  palmed  off 
by  their  aid!  What  good  can  there  be  in  pulling  and 
pressing  a  thumb  and  four  fingers?  I  fancy  I  see 
Alexis  laugh,  who  is  haply  reading  this  page  by  the  side 
of  Araminta.  To  talk  about  thumbs  indeed!  .... 
Maria  looks  round,  for  her  part,  to  see  if  Madame  Bern- 
stein has  been  awakened  by  the  crash  of  the  glass;   but 


THE  VIRGINIANS  261 

the  old  lady  slumbers  quite  calmly  in  her  arm-chair,  so 
her  niece  thinks  there  can  be  no  harm  in  yielding  to 
Harry's  gentle  pressure. 
^  The  horses  are  put  to :  Paradise  is  over — at  least  until 
the  next  occasion.  When  my  landlord  enters  with  the 
bill,  Harry  is  standing  quite  at  a  distance  from  his 
cousin,  looking  from  the  window  at  the  cavalcade  gath- 
ering below.  Madame  Bernstein  wakes  up  from  her 
slumber,  smiling  and  quite  unconscious.  With  what 
profound  care  and  reverential  politeness  ]Mr.  Warring- 
ton hands  his  aunt  to  her  carriage!  how  demure  and 
simple  looks  Lady  ]\Iaria  as  she  follows!  Away  go 
the  carriages,  in  the  midst  of  a  profoundly  bowing  land- 
lord and  waiters;  of  country  folks  gathered  round  the 
blazing  inn-sign ;  of  shopmen  gazing  from  their  homely 
little  doors;  of  boys  and  market-folks  under  the  col- 
onnade of  the  old  town-hall;  of  loungers  along  the 
gabled  street.  "  It  is  the  famous  Baroness  Bernstein. 
That  is  she,  tlie  old  lady  in  the  capuchin.  It  is  the  rich 
young  American  w^ho  is  just  come  from  Virginia,  and 
is  worth  millions  and  millions.  Well,  sure,  he  might 
have  a  better  horse."  The  cavalcade  disappears,  and  the 
little  town  lapses  into  its  usual  quiet.  The  landlord 
goes  back  to  his  friends  at  the  club,  to  tell  how  the  great 
folks  are  going  to  sleep  at  "  The  Bush,"  at  Farnham, 
to-night. 

The  inn-dinner  had  been  plentiful,  and  all  the  three 
guests  of  the  inn  had  done  justice  to  the  good  cheer. 
Harry  had  the  appetite  natiu'al  to  his  period  of  life. 
IMaria  and  her  aunt  were  also  not  indifferent  to  a  good 
dinner:  Madame  Bernstein  had  had  a  comfortable  nap 
after  hers,  which  Iiad  no  doubt  hcl])ed  her  to  bear  all  tlie 
good  things  of  the  meal— the  meat  pies,  and  the  fruit 


262  THE  VIRGINIANS 

pies,  and  the  strong  ale,  and  the  heady  port  wine.  She 
reclined  at  ease  on  her  seat  of  the  landau,  and  looked 
back  affably,  and  smiled  at  Harry  and  exchanged  a 
little  talk  with  him  as  he  rode  by  the  carriage  side.  But 
what  ailed  the  beloved  being  who  sat  with  her  back  to 
the  horses?  Her  complexion,  which  was  exceedingly 
fair,  was  farther  ornamented  with  a  pair  of  red  cheeks, 
which  Harry  took  to  be  natural  roses.  (You  see, 
madam,  that  your  surmises  regarding  the  Lady  Maria's 
conduct  with  her  cousin  are  quite  wrong  and  unchar- 
itable, and  that  the  timid  lad  had  made  no  such  experi- 
ments as  you  suppose,  in  order  to  ascertain  whether  the 
roses  were  real  or  artificial.  A  kiss,  indeed !  I  blush  to 
think  you  should  imagine  that  the  present  writer  could 
indicate  anything  so  shocking!)  Maria's  bright  red 
cheeks,  I  say  still,  continued  to  blush  as  it  seemed  with 
a  strange  metallic  bloom :  but  the  rest  of  her  face,  which 
had  used  to  rival  the  lily  in  whiteness,  became  of  a  jon- 
quil colour.  Her  ej^es  stared  round  with  a  ghastly  ex- 
pression. Harry  was  alarmed  at  the  agony  depicted  in 
the  charmer's  countenance;  which  not  only  exhibited 
pain,  but  was  exceedinglj^  unbecoming.  Madame  Bern- 
stein also  at  length  remarked  her  niece's  indisposition, 
and  asked  her  if  sitting  backwards  in  the  carriage  made 
her  ill,  which  poor  JNIaria  confessed  to  be  the  fact.  On 
this,  the  elder  lady  was  forced  to  make  room  for  her 
niece  on  her  own  side,  and  in  the  course  of  the  drive 
to  Farnham  uttered  many  gruff,  disagreeable,  sarcastic 
remarks  to  her  fellow-traveller,  indicating  her  great  dis- 
pleasure that  Maria  should  be  so  impertinent  as  to  be 
ill  on  the  first  day  of  a  journey. 

When  they  reached  the  "  Bush  Inn  "  at  Farnham, 
under  which  name  a  famous  inn  has  stood  in  Farnham 


THE  VIRGINIANS  263 

town  for  these  three  hundred  3^ears — the  dear  invalid 
retired  with  her  maid  to  her  bedroom:  scarcely  glanc- 
ing a  piteous  look  at  Harry  as  she  retreated,  and  leaving 
the  lad's  mind  in  a  strange  confusion  of  dismay  and 
sympathy.  Those  yellow,  yellow  cheeks,  those  livid 
wrinkled  eyelids,  that  ghastly  red — how  ill  his  blessed 
JNIaria  looked!  And  not  cnly  how  ill,  but  how — away, 
horrible  thought,  unmanly  suspicion!  He  tried  to  shut 
the  idea  out  from  his  mind.  He  had  little  appetite  for 
supper,  though  the  jolly  Baroness  partook  of  that  re- 
past as  if  she  had  had  no  dinner;  and  certainly  as  if 
she  had  no  sympathy  with  her  invalid  niece. 

She  sent  her  major-domo  to  see  if  Lady  Maria  would 
have  anything  from  the  table.  The  servant  brought 
back  word  that  her  ladyship  was  still  very  unwell,  and 
declined  any  refreshment. 

"  I  hope  she  intends  to  be  well  to-morrow  morning," 
cried  JMadame  Bernstein,  rapping  her  little  hand  on  the 
table.  "  I  hate  people  to  be  ill  in  an  inn,  or  on  a  jour- 
ney.    Will  you  plaj^  picquet  with  me,  Harry?  " 

Harry  was  happy  to  be  able  to  plaj'^  picquet  with  his 
aunt.  "  That  absurd  Maria!  "  says  Madame  Bernstein, 
drinking  from  a  great  glass  of  negus,  "  she  takes  liber- 
ties with  herself.  She  never  had  a  good  constitution. 
She  is  forty-one  years  old.  All  her  upper  teeth  are 
false,  and  she  can't  eat  with  them.  Thank  heaven,  I 
have  still  got  every  tooth  in  my  head.  How  clumsily 
you  deal,  child!  " 

Deal  clumsily,  indeed!  Had  a  dentist  been  extract- 
ing Harry's  own  grinders  at  that  moment,  would  he 
have  been  expected  to  mind  his  cards,  and  deal  them 
neatl}'?  When  a  man  is  laid  on  the  rack  at  the  Inquisi- 
tion, is  it  natural  that  he  should  smile  and  speak  politely 


264  THE  VIRGINIANS 

and  coherently  to  the  grave,  quiet  Inquisitor?  Beyond 
that  little  question  regarding  the  cards,  Harry's  In- 
quisitor did  not  show  the  smallest  disturbance.  Her 
face  indicated  neither  surprise,  nor  triumph,  nor  cru- 
elty. INIadame  Bernstein  did  not  give  one  more  stab 
to  her  niece  that  night:  but  she  played  at  cards,  and 
prattled  with  Harry,  indulging  in  her  favourite  talk 
about  old  times,  and  parting  from  him  with  great  cor- 
diality and  good  humour.  Very  likely  he  did  not  heed 
her  stories.  Very  likely  other  thoughts  occupied  his  mind. 
Maria  is  forty-one  years  old,  Maria  has  false — Oh,  horri- 
ble, horrible !  Has  she  a  false  eye?  Has  she  false  hair? 
Has  she  a  wooden  leg?  I  envy  not  that  boy's  dreams 
that  night. 

Madame  Bernstein,  in  the  morning,  said  she  had 
slept  as  sound  as  a  top.  She  had  no  remorse,  that  was 
clear.  (Some  folks  are  happy  and  easy  in  mind  when 
their  victim  is  stabbed  and  done  for.)  Lady  Maria 
made  her  appearance  at  the  breakfast-table,  too.  Her 
ladyship's  indisposition  was  fortunately  over:  her  aunt 
congratulated  her  affectionately  on  her  good  looks.  She 
sat  down  to  her  breakfast.  She  looked  appealingly  in 
Harry's  face.  He  remarked,  with  his  usual  brilliancy 
and  originality,  that  he  was  very  glad  her  ladyship  was 
better.  Wlw,  at  the  tone  of  his  voice,  did  she  start,  and 
again  gaze  at  him  with  frightened  eyes?  There  sat  the 
Chief  Inquisitor,  smiling,  perfectly  calm,  eating  ham 
and  muffins.  Oh,  poor  writhing,  rack-rent  victim !  Oh, 
stony  Inquisitor!  Oh,  Baroness  Bernstein!  It  was 
cruel!  cruel! 

Round  about  Farnham  the  hops  were  gloriously 
green  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  carriages  drove  through 
the  richest,  most  beautiful  country.    Maria  insisted  upon 


^r<0- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  265 

taking  her  old  seat.  She  thanked  her  dear  aunt.  It 
would  not  in  the  least  incommode  her  now.  She  gazed, 
as  she  had  done  yesterday,  in  the  face  of  the  young 
knight  riding  by  the  carriage  side.  She  looked  for  those 
answering  signals  which  used  to  be  lighted  up  in  yonder 
two  windows,  and  told  that  love  was  burning  within. 
She  smiled  gently  at  him,  to  which  token  of  regard  he 
tried  to  answer  with  a  sickly  grin  of  recognition.  Mis- 
erable youth!  Those  were  not  false  teeth  he  saw  when 
she  smiled.  He  thought  they  were,  and  they  tore  and 
lacerated  him. 

And  so  the  day  sped  on— sunshiny  and  brilliant  over- 
head, but  all  over  clouds  for  Harry  and  Maria.  He 
saw  nothing:  he  thought  of  Virginia:  he  remembered 
how  he  had  been  in  love  with  Parson  Broadbent's 
daughter  at  Jamestown,  and  how  quickly  that  business 
had  ended.  He  longed  vaguely  to  be  at  home  again.  A 
plague  on  all  these  cold-hearted  English  relations!  Did 
they  not  all  mean  to  trick  him?  Were  they  not  all 
scheming  against  him?  Had  not  that  confounded  Will 
cheated  him  about  the  horse? 

At  this  very  juncture  Maria  gave  a  scream  so  loud 
and  shrill  that  Madame  Bernstein  woke,  the  coachman 
pulled  his  horses  up,  and  the  footman  beside  him  sprang 
down  from  his  box  in  a  panic. 

"  Let  me  out!  let  me  out!  "  screamed  Maria.  "  Let 
me  go  to  him !  let  me  go  to  him !  " 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  the  Baroness. 

It  was  that  Will's  horse  had  come  down  on  his  knees 
and  nose,  had  sent  his  rider  over  his  head;  and  Mr. 
Harry,  who  ought  to  liave  known  better,  was  lying  on 
his  own  face  quite  motionless. 

Gumbo,  who  had  been  dallying  with  the  maids  of  the 


2G6  THE  VIRGINIANS 

second  carriage,  clattered  up,  and  mingled  his  howls 
with  Lady  IMaria's  lamentations.  Madame  Bernstein 
descended  from  her  landau,  and  came  slowly  up,  treni- 
hling  a  good  deal. 

"  He  is  dead — he  is  dead!  "  sobbed  Maria. 

"  Don't  be  a  goose,  Maria!  "  her  aunt  said.  "  Ring 
at  that  gate,  some  one!  " 

Will's  horse  had  gathered  himself  up  and  stood  per- 
fectly quiet  after  his  feat:  but  his  late  rider  gave  not 
the  slightest  sign  of  life. 


>^ 


CHAPTER   XXI 


SAMARITANS 

EST  any   tender- 
hearted     reader 
should      be      in 
alarm     for     Mr. 
Harry  Warring- 
ton's safety, 
and    fancy    that 
his  broken-kneed 
horse  had  carried 
him      altogether 
out   of  this   hfe 
and    history,   let 
us  set  her  mind 
easy  at   the   be- 
ginning   of  this 
chapter,    by    as- 
suring   her   that 
nothing  very  seri- 
ous has  happened.    How  can  we  afford  to  kill  off  our 
heroes,  when  they  are  scarcely  out  of  their  teens,  and  we 
have  not  reached  the  age  of  manhood  of  the  story?    We 
are  in  mourning  already  for  one  of  our  Virginians,  who 
has  come  to  grief  in  America;   surely  we  cannot  kill  off 
the  other  in  England?     No,  no.     Heroes  are  not  de- 
spatched with  such  hurry  and  violence  unless  there  is  a 
cogent  reason  for  making  away  with  them.     Were  a 

267 


268  THE  VIRGINIANS 

gentleman  to  perish  every  time  a  horse  came  down  with 
him,  not  only  the  hero,  hut  the  author  of  this  chronicle 
would  have  gone  under  ground,  whereas  the  former  is 
but  sprawling  outside  it,  and  will  be  brought  to  life  again 
as  soon  as  he  has  been  carried  into  the  house  where 
JNIadame  de  Bernstein's  servants  have  rung  the  bell. 

And  to  convince  you  that  at  least  this  youngest  of 
the  Virginians  is  still  alive,  here  is  an  authentic  copy  of 
a  letter  from  the  lady  into  whose  house  he  was  taken 
after  his  fall  from  Mr.  Will's  brute  of  a  broken-kneed 
horse,  and  in  whom  he  appears  to  have  found  a  kind 
friend. 

"TO   MRS.   ESMOND   WARRINGTON,   OF   CASTLE- 
WOOD, 

"at  her  house  at  RICHMOND,  IN  VIRGINIA. 

"  If  Mrs.  Esmond  Warrington  of  Virginia  can  call  to  mind 
twenty-three  years  ago,  Avhen  Miss  Rachel  Esmond  was  at  Ken- 
sington Boarding  School,  she  may  perhaps  remember  Miss  Molly 
Benson,  her  class  mate,  who  has  forgotten  all  the  little  quarrels 
which  they  used  to  have  together  (in  which  Miss  Molly  was 
very  often  in  the  wrong),  and  only  remembers  the  generous, 
high-spirited,  sprightly  Miss  Esmond,  the  Princess  Pocahontas, 
to  whom  so  many  of  our  school-fellows  paid  court. 

"  Dear  Madam !  I  can  never  forget  that  you  were  dear 
Rachel  once  upon  a  time,  as  I  was  your  dearest  IVIolly.  Though 
we  parted  not  very  good  friends  when  you  went  home  to  Vir- 
ginia, yet  you  know  how  fond  we  once  were.  I  still,  Rachel, 
have  the  gold  etui  your  papa  gave  me  when  he  came  to  our 
speech-day  at  Kensington,  and  we  two  performed  the  quarrel 
of  Brutus  and  Cassius  out  of  Shakspeare;  and  'twas  only  yes- 
terday morning  I  was  dreaming  that  we  were  both  called  up 
to  say  our  lesson  before  the  awful  Miss  Hardwood,  and  that 


We] 


come 


THE  VIRGINIANS  269 

I  did  not  know  it,  and  that  as  usual  Miss  Rachel  Esmond  went 
above  me.  How  well  remembered  those  old  days  are !  How 
young  we  grow  as  we  think  of  them !  I  remember  our  walks  and 
^.  our  exercises,  our  good  King  and  Queen  as  they  walked  in  Ken- 
sington Gardens,  and  their  court  following  them,  whilst  we  of 
Miss  Hardwood's  school  curtseyed  in  a  row.  I  can  tell  still  what 
we  had  for  dinner  on  each  day  of  the  week,  and  point  to  the 
place  where  your  garden  was,  which  was  always  so  much  better 
kept  than  mine.  So  was  Miss  Esmond's  chest  of  drawers  a  model 
of  neatness,  whilst  mine  were  in  a  sad  condition.  Do  3'ou  re- 
member how  we  used  to  tell  stories  in  the  dormitory,  and  Madame 
Hibou,  the  French  governess,  would  come  out  of  bed  and  inter- 
rupt us  with  her  hooting?  Have  you  forgot  the  poor  dancing- 
master,  who  told  us  he  had  been  waylaid  by  assassins,  but  who 
was  beaten,  it  appears,  by  my  lord  your  brother's  footmen.'' 
My  dear,  your  cousin,  the  Lady  Maria  Esmond  (her  papa  was, 
I  think,  but  Viscount  Castlewood  in  those  times),  has  just  been 
on  a  visit  to  this  house,  where  you  may  be  sure  I  did  not  recall 
those  sad  times  to  her  remembrance,  about  which  I  am  now 
chattering  to  Mrs.  Esmond. 

"  Her  lad3^ship  has  been  staying  here,  and  another  relative 
of  yours,  the  Baroness  of  Bernstein,  and  the  two  ladies  are  both 
gone  on  to  Tunbridge  Wells ;  but  another  and  dearer  relative 
still  remains  in  my  house,  and  is  sound  asleep,  I  trust,  in  the  very 
next  room,  and  the  name  of  this  gentleman  is  Mr.  Henry  Esmond 
Warrington.  Now,  do  you  understand  how  you  come  to  hear 
from  an  old  friend.''  Do  not  be  alarmed,  dear  Madam!  I  know 
you  are  thinking  at  this  moment,  '  My  boy  is  ill.  That  is  why 
Miss  Molly  Benson  writes  to  me.'  No,  my  dear ;  Mr.  War- 
rington xeas  ill  yesterday,  but  to-day  he  is  very  comfortable; 
and  our  Doctor,  who  is  no  less  a  person  than  my  dear  husband, 
Colonel  Lambert,  has  blooded  him,  has  set  his  shoulder,  which 
was  dislocated,  and  pronounces  that  in  two  days  more  Mr.  War- 
rington will  be  quite  ready  to  take  the  road. 

"  I  fear  I  and  my  girls  arc  sorry  that  he  is  so  soon  to  be  well. 


270  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Yesterday  evening,  as  we  were  at  tea,  there  came  a  great  ringing 
at  our  gate,  wliich  disturbed  us  all,  as  the  bell  very  seldom  sounds 
in  this  quiet  place,  unless  a  passing  beggar  pulls  it  for  charity ; 
and  the  servants  running  out,  returned  with  the  news,  that  a 
young  gentleman,  who  had  a  fall  from  his  horse,  was  lying 
lifeless  on  the  road,  surrounded  by  the  friends  in  whose  com- 
pany he  was  travelling.  At  this,  my  Colonel  (who  is  sure  the 
most  Samaritan  of  men!)  hastens  away,  to  see  how  he  can  serve 
the  fallen  traveller,  and  presently,  with  the  aid  of  the  servants, 
and  followed  by  two  ladies,  brings  into  the  house  such  a  pale, 
lifeless,  beautiful  young  man!  Ah,  my  dear,  how  I  rejoice  to 
think  that  your  child  has  found  shelter  and  succour  under  my 
roof!  that  my  husband  has  saved  him  from  pain  and  fever,  and 
has  been  the  means  of  restoring  him  to  you  and  health!  We 
shall  be  friends  again  now,  shall  we  not?  I  was  very  ill  last 
year,  and  'twas  even  thought  I  should  die.  Do  you  know,  that 
I  often  thought  of  you  then,  and  how  you  had  parted  from 
me  in  anger  so  many  years  ago?  I  began  then  a  foolish  note 
to  you,  which  I  was  too  sick  to  finish,  to  tell  you  that  if  I  went 
the  way  appointed  for  us  all,  I  should  wish  to  leave  the  world  in 
charity  with  every  single  being  I  had  known  in  it. 

"  Your  cousin,  the  Right  Honourable  Lady  Maria  Esmond, 
showed  a  great  deal  of  maternal  tenderness  and  concern  for  her 
young  kinsman  after  his  accident.  I  am  sure  she  hath  a  kind 
heart.  The  Baroness  de  Bernstein,  who  is  of  an  advanced  age, 
could  not  be  expected  to  feel  so  keenly  as  we  young  people;  but 
was,  nevertheless,  very  much  moved  and  interested  until  Mr. 
Warrington  was  restored  to  consciousness,  when  she  said  she  was 
anxious  to  get  on  towards  Tunbridge,  whither  she  was  bound, 
and  was  afraid  of  all  things  to  lie  in  a  place  where  there  was 
no  doctor  at  hand.  My  ^sculapius  laughingly  said,  he  would 
not  offer  to  attend  upon  a  lady  of  quality,  though  he  would 
answer  for  his  young  patient.  Indeed,  the  Colonel,  during  his 
campaigns,  has  had  plenty  of  practice  in  accidents  of  this  nature, 
and  I  am  certain,  were  we  to  call  in  all  the  faculty  for  twenty 
miles  round,  Mr.  Warrington  could  get  no  better  treatment.    So, 


■fr^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS  271 

leaving  the  young  gentleman  to  the  care  of  me  and  my  daugh- 
ters, the  Baroness  and  her  ladyship  took  their  leave  of  us,  the 
latter  very  loth  to  go.  When  he  is  well  enough,  my  Colonel 
will  ride  with  him  as  far  as  Westerham,  but  on  his  own  horses, 
where  an  old  army-comrade  of  Mr.  Lambert's  resides.  And 
as  this  letter  will  not  take  the  post  for  Falmouth  until,  by  God's 
blessing,  your  son  is  well  and  perfectly  restored,  you  need  be 
under  no  sort  of  alarm  for  him  whilst  under  the  roof  of, 

"  Madam, 
"  Your  affectionate  humble  servant, 

"  Mary  Lambert. 

"  P.  S.     Thursday.  "  "  .? 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  (Mr.  Warrington's  coloured  gentleman 
hath  informed  our  people  of  the  gratifying  circumstance)  that 
Providence  hath  blessed  Mrs.  Esmond  with  such  vast  wealth,  and 
with  an  heir  so  likely  to  do  credit  to  it.  Our  present  means 
are  amply  sufficient,  but  will  be  small  when  divided  amongst  our 
survivors.  Ah,  dear  Madam !  I  have  heard  of  your  calamity  of 
last  year.  Though  the  Colonel  and  I  have  reared  many  chil- 
dren (five),  we  have  lost  two,  and  a  mother's  heart  can  feel 
for  yours  !  I  own  to  you,  mine  yearned  to  your  boy  to-day,  when 
(in  a  manner  inexpressibly  affecting  to  me  and  Mr.  Lambert) 
he  mentioned  his  dear  brother.  'Tis  impossible  to  see  your  son, 
and  not  to  love  and  regard  him.  I  am  thankful  that  it  has  been 
our  lot  to  succour  him  in  his  trouble,  and  that  in  receiving  the 
stranger  within  our  gates,  we  should  be  giving  hospitality  to 
the  son  of  an  old  friend." 


Nature  has  written  a  letter  of  credit  upon  some  men's 
faces,  wliicli  is  honoured  almost  wherever  presented. 
Harry  Warrington's  countenance  was  so  stamped  in 
his  youth.  His  eyes  were  so  bright,  liis  clieek  so  red  and 
healthy,  his  look  so  frank  and  open,  that  almost  all  who 
beheld  him,  nay,  even  those  who  cheated  him,  trusted 


272  THE  VIRGINIANS 

him.  Nevertheless,  as  we  have  hinted,  the  lad  was  by 
no  means  the  artless  stripling  he  seemed  to  be.  He 
was  knowing  enough  with  all  his  blushing  cheeks ;  per- 
haps more  wily  and  wary  than  he  grew  to  be  in  after- 
age.  Sure,  a  shrewd  and  generous  man  (who  has  led 
an  honest  life  and  has  no  secret  blushes  for  his  con- 
science) grows  simpler  as  he  grows  older;  arrives  at 
his  sum  of  right  by  more  rapid  processes  of  calculation ; 
learns  to  eliminate  false  arguments  more  readily,  and 
hits  the  mark  of  truth  with  less  previous  trouble  of  aim- 
ing, and  disturbance  of  mind.  Or  is  it  only  a  senile 
delusion,  that  some  of  our  vanities  are  cured  with  our 
growing  years,  and  that  we  become  more  just  in  our  per- 
ceptions of  our  own  and  our  neighbours'  shortcomings? 
...  I  would  humbly  suggest  that  young  people,  though 
they  look  prettier,  have  larger  eyes,  and  not  near  so 
many  wrinkles  about  their  eyelids,  are  often  as  artful 
as  some  of  their  elders.  What  little  monsters  of  cun- 
ning your  frank  schoolboys  are!  How  they  cheat 
mamma!  how  they  hoodwink  papa!  how  they  humbug 
the  housekeeper!  how  they  cringe  to  the  big  boy  for 
whom  the}''  fag  at  school !  what  a  long  lie  and  five  years' 
hypocrisy  and  flattery  is  their  conduct  towards  Dr. 
Birch!  And  the  little  boys'  sisters?  Are  they  any  bet- 
ter, and  is  it  only  after  they  come  out  in  the  world  that 
the  little  darlings  learn  a  trick  or  two? 

You  may  see,  by  the  above  letter  of  Mrs.  Lambert, 
that  she,  like  all  good  women,  (and,  indeed,  almost  all 
bad  women,)  was  a  sentimental  person;  and  as  she 
looked  at  Harry  Warrington  laid  in  her  best  bed,  after 
the  Colonel  had  bled  him  and  clapped  in  his  shoulder, 
as  holding  by  her  husband's  hand  she  beheld  the  lad  in 
a  sweet  slumber,  murmuring  a  faint  inarticulate  word 


THE  VIRGINIANS  273 

or  two  in  his  sleep,  a  faint  blush  quivering  on  his  cheek, 
she  owned  he  was  a  pretty  lad  indeed,  and  confessed 
with  a  sort  of  compunction  that  neither  of  her  two  boys 
— Jack  who  was  at  Oxford,  and  Charles  who  was  just 
gone  back  to  school  after  the  Bartlemytide  holidays — 
was  half  so  handsome  as  the  Virginian.  What  a  good 
figure  the  boy  had,  and  when  papa  bled  him,  his  arm 
was  as  white  as  any  lady's! 

"  Yes,  as  you  say.  Jack  might  have  been  as  handsome 
but  for  the  small-pox:  and  as  for  Charley — "  "Al- 
ways took  after  his  papa,  my  dear  JNIolly,"  said  the  Colo- 
nel, looking  at  his  own  honest  face  in  a  little  looking- 
glass  wdth  a  cut  border  and  a  japanned  frame,  by  which 
the  chief  guests  of  the  worthy  gentleman  and  lady  had 
surveyed  their  patches  and  powder,  or  shaved  their  hos- 
pitable beards. 

"  Did  I  say  so,  mj^  love? "  whispered  Mrs.  Lambert, 
looking  rather  scared. 

"  No ;   but  you  thought  so,  Mrs.  Lambert." 

"  How  can  you  tell  one's  thoughts  so,  Martin?  "  asks 
the  lady. 

"  Because  I  am  a  conjuror,  and  because  you  tell  them 
yourself,  my  dear,"  answered  her  husband.  "  Don't  be 
frightened:  he  won't  wake  after  that  draught  I  gave 
him.  Because  you  never  see  a  young  fellow  but  you  are 
comparing  him  with  your  own.  Because  you  never  hear 
of  one  but  you  are  thinking  which  of  our  girls  he  shall 
fall  in  love  with  and  marry." 

"  Don't  be  foolish,  sir,"  says  the  lady,  putting  a  hand 
up  to  the  Colonel's  lips.  They  have  softly  trodden  out 
of  their  guest's  bedchamber  by  this  time,  and  are  in 
the  adjoining  dressing-closet,  a  snug  httle  wainscoted 
room  looking  over  gardens,  with  India  curtains,  more 


274  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Japan  chests  and  cabinets,  a  treasure  of  china,  and  a 
most  refreshing  odour  of  fresh  lavender. 

"  You  can't  deny  it,  Mrs.  Lambert,"  the  Colonel  re- 
sumes; "as  you  were  looking  at  the  young  gentleman 
just  now,  you  were  thinking  to  yourself  which  of  my 
girls  will  he  marry?  Shall  it  be  Theo,  or  shall  it  be 
Hester?  And  then  you  thought  of  Lucy  who  was  at 
boarding-school." 

"  There  is  no  keeping  anything  from  you,  Martin 
Lambert,"  sighs  the  wife. 

"  There  is  no  keeping  it  out  of  your  eyes,  my  dear. 
What  is  this  burning  desire  all  you  women  have  for 
selling  and  marrying  your  daughters?  We  men  don't 
wish  to  part  with  'em.  I  am  sure,  for  my  part,  I 
should  not  like  yonder  young  fellow  half  as  well  if  I 
thought  he  intended  to  carry  one  of  my  darlings  away 
with  him." 

"  Sure,  Martin,  I  have  been  so  happy  myself,"  says 
the  fond  wife  and  mother,  looking  at  her  husband  with 
her  very  best  eyes,  "  that  I  must  wish  my  girls  to  do  as 
I  have  done,  and  be  happy,  too!  " 

"  Then  you  think  good  husbands  are  common,  Mrs. 
Lambert,  and  that  you  may  walk  any  day  into  the  road 
before  the  house  and  find  one  shot  out  at  the  gate  like 
a  sack  of  coals?  " 

"  Was  n't  it  providential,  sir,  that  this  young  gen- 
tleman should  be  thrown  over  his  horse's  head  at  our 
very  gate,  and  that  he  should  turn  out  to  be  the  son 
of  my  old  schoolfellow  and  friend?"  asked  the  wife. 
"  There  is  something  more  than  accident  in  such  cases, 
depend  upon  that,  Mr.  Lambert!  " 

"  And  this  was  the  stranger  you  saw  in  the  candle 
three  nights  running,  I  suppose?  " 

"And  in  the  fire,  too,  sir;  twice  a  coal  jumped  out 


THE  VIRGINIANS  275 

close  by  Theo.     You  may  sneer,  sir,  but  these  things 

are  not  to  be  despised.     Did  I  not  see  you  distinctly 

coming  back  from  ]\Iinorca,  and  dream  of  you  at  the 

-»:very  day  and  hour  when  you  were  wounded  in  Scot- 

"land?" 

"  How  many  times  have  you  seen  me  wounded,  when 
I  had  not  a  scratch,  my  dear?  How  many  times  have 
you  seen  me  ill  when  I  had  no  sort  of  hurt?  You  are 
always  prophesying,  and  'twere  very  hard  on  you  if  you 
were  not  sometimes  right.  Come!  Let  us  leave  our 
guest  asleep  comfortably,  and  go  down  and  give  the 
girls  their  French  lesson." 

So  saying,  the  honest  gentleman  put  his  wife's  arm 
under  his,  and  they  descended  together  the  broad  oak 
staircase  of  the  comfortable  old  hall,  round  which  hung 
the  effigies  of  many  foregone  Lamberts,  worthy  magis- 
trates, soldiers,  country  gentlemen,  as  was  the  Colonel 
whose  acquaintance  we  have  just  made.  The  Colonel 
was  a  gentleman  of  pleasant,  waggish  humour.  The 
French  lesson  which  he  and  his  daughters  conned  to- 
gether was  a  scene  out  of  Monsieur  Moliere's  comedy  of 
"  Tartuffe,"  and  papa  was  pleased  to  be  very  facetious 
with  Miss  Theo,  by  calling  her  Madam,  and  by  treating 
her  with  a  great  deal  of  mock  respect  and  ceremony. 
The  girls  read  together  with  their  father  a  scene  or 
two  of  his  favourite  author  (nor  were  they  less  modest 
in  those  days,  though  their  tongues  were  a  little  more 
free),  and  papa  was  particularly  arch  and  funny  as  he 
read  from  Orgon's  part  in  that  celebrated  play: 

Oegon.      Or  sus,  nous  voila  bien.     J'ai,  Marianc,  en  vous 
Reconnu  de  tout  temps  un  esprit  asscz  doux, 
Et  de  tout  tem})s  aussi  vous  m'avez  ete  chere. 
Makiane.     Je  suis  fort  redevable  a  cet  amour  de  piire. 


276  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Orgon.  Fort  bien.  Que  dites-vous  de  TartufFe  notre  hote? 
Mariane.     Qui?     Moi? 

Orgon.     Vous.     Voyez  bien  comme  vous  repondrez. 
Mariane.     Helas  !    J'en  dirai,  moi,  tout  ce  que  vous  voudrez ! 
{Mademoiselle  Mariane  laughs  and  blushes  in  spite  of  herself, 
whilst  reading  this  line.) 

Orgon.     C'est  parler  sagement.     Dites  moi  done,  ma  fille, 
Qu'en  toute  sa  personne  un  haut  merite  brille, 
Qu'il  touche  votre  coeur,  et  qu'il  vous  seroit  doux 
De  le  voir  par  mon  choix  devenir  votre  epoux ! 

"  Have  we  not  read  the  scene  prettily,  Elmire?  "  says 
the  Colonel,  laughing,  and  turning  round  to  his  wife. 

Elmira  prodigiously  admired  Orgon's  reading,  and 
so  did  his  daughters,  and  almost  everything  besides 
which  Mr.  Lambert  said  or  did.  Canst  thou,  O  friendly 
reader,  count  upon  the  fidelity  of  an  artless  and  tender 
heart  or  two,  and  reckon  among  the  blessings  which 
heaven  hath  bestowed  on  thee  the  love  of  faithful 
women?  Purify  thine  own  heart,  and  try  to  make  it 
worthy  theirs.  On  thy  knees,  on  thy  knees,  give  thanks 
for  the  blessing  awarded  thee !  All  the  prizes  of  life  are 
nothing  compared  to  that  one.  All  the  rewards  of  am- 
bition, wealth,  pleasure,  only  vanity  and  disappoint- 
ment— grasped  at  greedily  and  fought  for  fiercely,  and, 
over  and  over  again,  found  worthless  by  the  weary 
winners.  But  love  seems  to  survive  life,  and  to  reach 
beyond  it.  I  think  we  take  it  with  us  past  the  grave. 
Do  we  not  still  give  it  to  those  who  have  left  us?  May 
we  not  hope  that  they  feel  it  for  us,  and  that  we  shall 
leave  it  here  in  one  or  two  fond  bosoms,  when  we  also  are 
gone? 

And  whence,  or  how,  or  why,  praj^  this  sermon  ?  You 
see  I  know  more  about  this  Lambert  family  than  you 


THE  VIRGINIANS  277 

do  to  whom  I  am  just  presenting  them:  as  how  should 
you  who  never  heard  of  them  before?  You  may  not 
like  my  friends;  very  few  people  do  like  strangers  to 
^>  whom  they  are  presented  with  an  outrageous  flourish  of 
praises  on  the  part  of  the  introducer.  You  say  (quite 
naturally)  what?  Is  this  all?  Are  these  the  people  he 
is  so  fond  of?  Why,  the  girl's  not  a  beauty— the  mother 
is  good-natured,  and  may  have  been  good-looking  once, 
but  she  has  no  trace  of  it  now— and,  as  for  the  father, 
he  is  quite  an  ordinary  man.  Granted:  but  don't  you 
acknowledge  that  the  sight  of  an  honest  man,  with  an 
honest,  loving  wife  by  his  side,  and  surrounded  by  loving 
and  obedient  children,  presents  something  very  sweet 
and  affecting  to  you?  If  you  are  made  acquainted  with 
such  a  person,  and  see  the  eager  kindness  of  the  fond 
faces  round  about  him,  and  that  pleasant  confidence 
and  affection  which  beams  from  his  own,  do  you  mean 
to  say  you  are  not  touched  and  gratified?  If  you  hap- 
pen to  stay  in  such  a  man's  house,  and  at  morning  or 
evening  see  him  and  his  children  and  domestics  gathered 
together  in  a  certain  name,  do  j^ou  not  join  humbly  in 
the  petitions  of  those  servants,  and  close  them  with  a 
reverent  Amen?  That  first  night  of  his  stay  at  Oak- 
hurst,  Harry  Warrington,  who  had  had  a  sleeping 
potion,  and  was  awake  sometimes  rather  feverish, 
thought  he  heard  the  Evening  Hymn,  and  that  his  dear- 
est brother  George  was  singing  it  at  home,  in  which 
delusion  the  patient  went  off  again  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


IN    HOSPIT^VL 


INKING  into  a 
sweet  slumber, 
and  lulled  by 
those  harmo- 
l  nious  sounds, 
our  young  pa- 
tient passed  a 
night  of  pleas- 
ant unconcious- 
ness, and  awoke 
in  the  morning 
to  find  a  sum- 
mer sun  stream- 
ing in  at  the 
window,  and 
his  kind  host 
and  hostess  smiling  at  his  bed-curtains.  He  was  raven- 
ously hungry,  and  his  doctor  permitted  him  straight- 
way to  partake  of  a  mess  of  chicken,  which  the  doctor's 
wife  told  him  had  been  prepared  by  the  hands  of  one 
of  her  daughters. 

One  of  her  daughters?  A  faint  image  of  a  young 
person— of  two  young  persons— with  red  cheeks  and 
black  waving  locks,  smiling  round  his  couch,  and  sud- 
denly departing  thence,  soon  after  he  had  come  to  him- 
self, arose  in  the  young  man's  mind.    Then,  then,  there 

378 


THE  VIRGINIANS  279 

returned  the  remembrance  of  a  female — lovely,  it  is 
true,  but  more  elderly — certainly  considerably  older — 
and  with  f —  O  horror  and  remorse!  He  writhed  with 
anguish,  as  a  certain  recollection  crossed  him.  An  im- 
mense gulf  of  time  gaped  between  him  and  the  past. 
How  long  was  it  since  he  had  heard  that  those  pearls 
were  artificial, — that  those  golden  locks  were  only  pinch- 
beck? A  long,  long  time  ago,  when  he  was  a  boy,  an 
innocent  boy.  Now  he  was  a  man — quite  an  old  man. 
He  had  been  bled  copiously;  he  had  a  little  fever;  he 
had  had  nothing  to  eat  for  very  many  hours;  he  had 
had  a  sleeping-draught,  and  a  long,  deep  slumber  after. 

"  What  is  it,  my  dear  child?  "  cries  kind  Mrs.  Lam- 
bert, as  he  started. 

"  Nothing,  Madam;  a  twinge  in  my  shoulder,"  said 
the  lad.  "  I  speak  to  my  host  and  hostess?  Sure  you 
have  been  very  kind  to  me." 

"  We  are  old  friends,  Mr.  Warrington.  ]My  husband. 
Colonel  Lambert,  knew  your  father,  and  I  and  your 
mamma  were  school-girls  together  at  Kensington.  You 
were  no  stranger  to  us  when  your  aunt  and  cousin  told 
us  who  j^ou  were." 

"  Are  they  here?  "  asked  Harry,  looking  a  little  blank. 

"  They  must  have  lain  at  Tunbridge  Wells  last  night. 
They  sent  a  horseman  from  Reigate  yesterday  for  news 
of  you." 

"  Ah!  I  remember,"  says  Harry,  looking  at  his  ban- 
daged arm. 

"  I  have  made  a  good  cure  of  you,  INIr.  Warrington. 
And  now  ]Mrs.  Lambert  and  the  cook  nmst  take  charge 
of  you." 

"  Nay.  Theo  prepared  tlie  cliickcn  and  rice,  Mr. 
Lambert,"  said  the  lady.     "  Will  Mr.  Warrington  get 


280  THE  VIRGINIANS 

up  after  he  has  had  his  breakfast?  We  will  send  your 
valet  to  you." 

"  If  howling  proves  fidelity,  your  man  must  be  a 
most  fond,  attached  creature,"  says  Mr.  Lambert. 

"  He  let  your  baggage  travel  off  after  all  in  your 
aunt's  carriage,"  said  Mrs.  Lambert.  "  You  must  wear 
my  husband's  linen,  which,  I  dare  say,  is  not  so  fine  as 
yours." 

"  Pish,  my  dear!  my  shirts  are  good  shirts  enough 
for  any  Christian,"  cries  the  Colonel. 

"  They  are  Theo's  and  Hester's  work,"  says  mamma. 
At  which  her  husband  arches  his  ej^ebrows  and  looks  at 
her.  "  And  Theo  hath  ripped  and  sewed  your  sleeve 
to  make  it  quite  comfortable  for  your  shoulder,"  the 
lady  added. 

"What  beautiful  roses!"  cries  Harry,  looking  at  a 
fine  china  vase  full  of  them  that  stood  on  the  toilet-table, 
under  the  japan-framed  glass. 

"  ]My  daughter,  Theo,  cut  them  this  morning.  Well, 
Mr.  Lambert?    She  did  cut  them!  " 

I  suppose  the  Colonel  was  thinking  that  his  wife  in- 
troduced Theo  too  much  into  the  conversation,  and  trod 
on  JNIrs.  Lambert's  slipper,  or  pulled  her  robe,  or  other- 
wise nudged  her  into  a  sense  of  propriety. 

"  And  I  fancied  I  heard  some  one  singing  the  Even- 
ing Hymn  very  sweetly  last  night — or  was  it  only  a 
dream?  "  asked  the  j^oung  patient. 

"Theo  again,  Mr.  Warrington!"  said  the  Colonel, 
laughing.  "  ]My  servants  said  your  negro  man  began 
to  sing  it  in  the  kitchen  as  if  he  was  a  church  organ." 

"  Our  people  sing  it  at  home,  sir.  My  grandpapa 
used  to  love  it  very  much.  His  wife's  father  was  a  great 
friend  of  good  Bishop  Ken  who  wrote  it;  and— and  my 


-«n. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  281 

dear  brother  used  to  love  it  too,"  said  the  boj'^,  his  voice 
dropping. 

It  was  then,  I  suppose,  that  Mrs.  Lambert  felt  in- 
clined to  give  the  boy  a  kiss.  His  little  accident,  illness 
and  recovery,  the  kindness  of  the  people  round  about 
him,  had  softened  Harry  Warrington's  heart,  and 
opened  it  to  better  influences  than  those  which  had  been 
brought  to  bear  on  it  for  some  six  weeks  past.  He  was 
breathing  a  purer  air  than  that  tainted  atmosphere  of 
selfishness,  and  worldliness,  and  corruption,  into  which 
he  had  been  plunged  since  his  arrival  in  England.  Some- 
times the  young  man's  fate,  or  choice,  or  weakness,  leads 
him  into  the  fellowship  of  the  giddy  and  vain;  happy 
he,  whose  lot  makes  him  acquainted  with  the  wiser  com- 
pany, whose  lamps  are  trimmed,  and  whose  pure  hearts 
keep  modest  watch. 

The  pleased  matron  left  her  young  patient  devouring 
Miss  Theo's  mess  of  rice  and  chicken,  and  the  Colonel 
seated  by  the  lad's  bedside.  Gratitude  to  his  hospitable 
entertainers,  and  contentment  after  a  comfortable  meal, 
caused  in  Mr.  Warrington  a  very  pleasant  condition  of 
mind  and  body.  He  was  ready  to  talk  now  more  freely 
than  usually  was  his  custom;  for,  unless  excited  by  a 
strong  interest  or  emotion,  the  young  man  was  com- 
monly taciturn  and  cautious  in  his  converse  with  his 
fellows,  and  was  by  no  means  of  an  imaginative  turn. 
Of  books  our  youth  had  })een  but  a  very  remiss  student, 
nor  were  his  remarks  on  such  simple  works  as  he  had 
read  very  profound  or  valuable;  but  regarding  dogs, 
horses,  and  the  ordinary  business  of  life,  he  was  a  far 
better  critic;  and,  with  any  person  interested  in  such 
subjects,  conversed  on  tliem  freely  enough. 

Harry's  host,  who  had  consideraljlc  shrewdness,  and 


282  THE  VIRGINIANS 

experience  of  books,  and  cattle,  and  men,  was  pretty 
soon  able  to  take  tbe  measure  of  his  young  guest  in 
the  talk  which  they  now  had  together.  It  was  now, 
for  the  first  time,  the  Virginian  learned  that  Mrs.  Lam- 
bert had  been  an  early  friend  of  his  mother's,  and  that 
the  Colonel's  own  father  had  served  with  Harry's  grand- 
father, Colonel  Esmond,  in  the  famous  wars  of  Queen 
Anne.  He  found  himself  in  a  friend's  country.  He 
was  soon  at  ease  with  his  honest  host,  whose  manners 
were  quite  simple  and  cordial,  and  who  looked  and 
seemed  perfectly  a  gentleman,  though  he  wore  a  plain 
fustian  coat,  and  a  waistcoat  without  a  particle  of  lace. 

"  My  boys  are  both  away,"  said  Harry's  host,  "  or 
they  would  have  shown  you  the  country  when  you  got 
up,  Mr.  Warrington.  Now  you  can  only  have  the  com- 
pany of  my  wife  and  her  daughters.  Mrs.  Lambert 
hath  told  you  already  about  one  of  them,  Theo,  our 
eldest,  who  made  j'^our  broth,  who  cut  your  roses,  and 
who  mended  your  coat.  She  is  not  such  a  wonder  as  her 
mother  imagines  her  to  be;  but  little  Theo  is  a  smart 
little  housekeeper,  and  a  very  good  and  cheerful  lass, 
though  her  father  says  it." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  Miss  Lambert  to  take  so  much 
care  for  me,"  says  the  young  patient. 

"  She  is  no  kinder  to  you  than  to  any  other  mortal, 
and  doth  but  her  duty."  Here  the  Colonel  smiled.  "  I 
laugh  at  their  mother  for  praising  our  children,"  he 
said,  "  and  I  think  I  am  as  foolish  about  them  myself. 
The  truth  is,  God  hath  given  us  very  good  and  dutiful 
children,  and  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  disguise  my 
thankfulness  for  such  a  blessing.  You  have  never  a 
sister,  I  think? " 

"  No,  sir,  I  am  alone  now,"  Mr.  Warrington  said. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  283 

"  Ay,  truly,  I  ask  your  pardon  for  my  thoughtless- 
ness. Your  man  hath  told  our  people  what  befell  last 
year.  I  served  with  Braddock  in  Scotland;  and  hope 
he  mended  before  he  died.  A  wild  fellow,  sir,  but  there 
was  a  fund  of  truth  about  the  man,  and  no  little  kindness 
under  his  rough  swaggering  manner.  Your  black  fel- 
low talks  very  freely  about  his  master  and  his  affairs. 
I  suppose  you  j)ermit  him  these  freedoms  as  he  rescued 
you—" 

"  Rescued  me?  "  cries  Mr.  Warrington. 

"  From  ever  so  man}^  Indians  on  that  very  expedition. 
INIy  INIolly  and  I  did  not  know  we  were  going  to  enter- 
tain so  prodigiousty  wealthy  a  gentleman.  He  saith 
that  half  Virginia  belongs  to  you;  but  if  the  whole  of 
North  America  were  yours,  we  could  but  give  you  our 
best." 

"  Those  negro  boys,  sir,  lie  like  the  father  of  all  lies. 
They  think  it  is  for  our  honour  to  represent  us  as  ten 
times  as  rich  as  we  are.  My  mother  has  what  would  be 
a  vast  estate  in  England,  and  is  a  very  good  one  at  home. 
We  are  as  well  ojff  as  most  of  our  neighbours,  sir,  but 
no  better;  and  all  our  splendour  is  in  INIr.  Gumbo's 
foolish  imagination.  He  never  rescued  me  from  an 
Indian  in  his  life,  and  would  run  away  at  the  sight  of 
one,  as  my  poor  brother's  boy  did  on  that  fatal  day 
when  he  fell." 

"  The  bravest  man  will  do  so  at  unlucky  times,"  said 
the  Colonel.  "  I  myself  saw  the  best  troops  in  the  world 
run  at  I'reston,  before  a  ragged  mob  of  Higliland 
savages." 

"  That  was  l)ecause  the  Iliglilanders  fouglit  for  a 
good  cause,  sir." 

"  Do  you  think,"  asks  Harry's  host,  "  that  the  French 


284*  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Indians  had  the  good  cause  in  the  fight  of  last 
year  ( 

"  The  scovindrels!  I  would  have  the  scalp  of  every 
murderous  redskin  among  'em!  "  cried  Harry,  clenching 
his  fist.  "  They  were  robbing  and  invading  the  British 
territories,  too.  But  the  Highlanders  were  fighting  for 
their  king." 

"We,  on  our  side,  were  fighting  for  our  king;  and 
we  ended  by  winning  the  battle,"  said  the  Colonel, 
laughing. 

"Ah!"  cried  Harry,  "if  his  Royal  Highness  the 
Prince  had  not  turned  back  at  Derby,  your  king  and 
mine,  now,  would  be  his  Majesty  King  James  the 
Third!" 

"  Who  made  such  a  Tory  of  you,  Mr.  Warrington?  " 
asked  Lambert. 

"Nay,  sir,  the  Esmonds  were  always  loyal!"  an- 
swered the  youth.  "  Had  we  lived  at  home,  and  twenty 
years  sooner,  brother  and  I  often  and  often  agreed  that 
our  heads  would  have  been  in  danger.  We  certainly 
would  have  staked  them  for  the  king's  cause." 

"  Yours  is  better  on  j^our  shoulders  than  on  a  pole  at 
Temple  Bar.  I  have  seen  them  there,  and  they  don't 
look  very  pleasant,  Mr.  Warrington." 

"  I  shall  take  off  my  hat,  and  salute  them,  whenever 
I  pass  the  gate,"  cried  the  young  man,  "  if  the  king 
and  the  whole  court  are  standing  by!  " 

"  I  doubt  whether  your  relative,  my  Lord  Castlewood, 
is  as  staunch  a  suppor^ter  of  the  king  over  the  water," 
said  Colonel  Lambert,  smiling:  "or  your  aunt,  the 
Baroness  of  Bernstein,  who  left  you  in  our  charge. 
Whatever  her  old  partialities  may  have  been,  she  has 
repented  of  them;    she  has  rallied  to  our  side,  landed 


THE  VIRGINIANS  285 

her  nephews  in  the  Household,  and  looks  to  find  a  suit- 
able match  for  her  nieces.  If  you  have  Tory  opinions, 
Mr.  Warrington,  take  an  old  soldier's  advice,  and  keep 
them  to  yourself." 

"  Why,  sir,  I  do  not  think  that  you  will  betray  me! " 
said  the  boy. 

"  Not  I,  but  others  might.  You  did  not  talk  in  this 
way  at  Castlewood?  I  mean  the  old  Castlewood  which 
you  have  just  come  from." 

"  I  might  be  safe  amongst  my  own  kinsmen,  surely, 
sir!  "  cried  Harry. 

"  Doubtless.  I  would  not  say  no.  But  a  man's  own 
kinsmen  can  play  him  slippery  tricks  at  times,  and  he 
finds  himself  none  the  better  for  trusting  them.  I  mean 
no  offence  to  you  or  any  of  your  family;  but  lacqueys 
have  ears  as  well  as  their  masters,  and  they  carry  about 
all  sorts  of  stories.  For  instance,  your  black  fellow  is 
ready  to  tell  all  he  knows  about  you,  and  a  great  deal 
more  besides,  as  it  would  appear." 

"  Hath  he  told  about  the  broken-kneed  horse? "  cried 
out  Harry,  turning  very  red. 

"  To  say  truth,  my  groom  seemed  to  know  something 
of  the  stor}'',  and  said  it  was  a  shame  a  gentleman  should 
sell  another  such  a  brute;  let  alone  a  cousin.  I  am  not 
here  to  play  the  INIentor  to  you,  or  to  carry  about  ser- 
vants' tittle-tattle.  When  you  have  seen  more  of  your 
cousins,  you  will  form  your  own  opinion  of  them;  mean- 
while, take  an  old  soldier's  advice,  I  say  again,  and  be 
cautious  with  whom  you  deal,  and  what  you  say." 

Very  soon  after  this  little  colloquy,  Mr.  Lambert's 
guest  rose,  with  the  assistance  of  Gnnibo,  his  valet,  to 
whom  he,  for  a  hundredth  time  at  least,  promised  a 
sound  caning  if  ever  he  should  hear  that  Gumbo  had 


286  THE  VIRGINIANS 

ventured  to  talk  about  his  affairs  again  in  the  servants'- 
hall, — which  prohibition  Gumbo  solemnly  vowed  and 
declared  he  would  for  ever  obey ;  but  I  dare  say  he  was 
chattering  the  whole  of  the  Castlewood  secrets  to  his 
new  friends  of  Colonel  Lambert's  kitchen ;  for  Harry's 
hostess  certainly  heard  a  number  of  stories  concerning 
him  which  she  could  not  prevent  her  housekeeper  from 
telling;  though  of  course  I  would  not  accuse  that  wor- 
thy lady,  or  any  of  her  sex  or  ours,  of  undue  curiosity 
regarding  their  neighbours'  affairs.  But  how  can  you 
prevent  servants  talking,  or  listening  when  the  faithful 
attached  creatures  talk  to  you? 

Mr.  Lambert's  house  stood  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
little  town  of  Oakhurst,  which,  if  he  but  travels  in  the 
right  direction,  the  patient  reader  will  find  on  the  road 
between  Farnham  and  Reigate,— and  Madame  Bern- 
stein's servants  naturally  pulled  at  the  first  bell  at  hand, 
when  the  j^oung  Virginian  met  with  his  mishap.  A 
few  hundred  yards  further,  was  the  long  street  of  the 
little  old  town,  where  hospitality  might  have  been  found 
under  the  great  swinging  ensigns  of  a  couple  of  inns, 
and  medical  relief  was  to  be  had,  as  a  blazing  gilt  pestle 
and  mortar  indicated.  But  what  surgeon  could  have 
ministered  more  cleverly  to  a  patient  than  Harry's  host, 
who  tended  him  without  a  fee,  or  what  Boniface  could 
make  him  more  comfortably  welcome? 

Two  tall  gates,  each  surmounted  by  a  couple  of  heral- 
dic monsters,  led  from  the  high-road  up  to  a  neat,  broad 
stone  terrace,  whereon  stood  Oakhurst  House :  a  square 
brick  building,  with  windows  faced  with  stone,  and  many 
high  chimneys,  and  a  tall  roof  surmounted  by  a  fair  bal- 
ustrade. Behind  the  house  stretched  a  large  garden, 
where  there  was  plenty  of  room  for  cabbages  as  well  as 


THE  VIRGINIANS  287 

roses  to  grow ;  and  before  the  mansion,  separated  from  it 
by  the  high-road,  was  a  field  of  many  acres,  where  the 
Colonel's  cows  and  horses  were  at  grass.  Over  the 
^;  centre  window  was  a  carved  shield  supported  by  the 
same  monsters  who  pranced  or  ramped  upon  the  en- 
trance-gates; and  a  coronet  over  the  shield.  The  fact 
is,  that  the  house  had  been  originally  the  jointure-house 
of  Oakhurst  Castle,  which  stood  hard  by, — its  chimneys 
and  turrets  appearing  over  the  surrounding  woods,  now 
bronzed  with  the  darkest  foliage  of  summer.  Mr.  Lam- 
bert's was  the  greatest  house  in  Oakhurst  town;  but  the 
Castle  was  of  more  importance  than  all  the  town  put 
together.  The  Castle  and  the  jointure-house  had  been 
friends  of  many  years'  date.  Their  fathers  had  fought 
side  by  side  in  Queen  Anne's  wars.  There  were  two 
small  pieces  of  ordnance  on  the  terrace  of  the  jointure- 
house,  and  six  before  the  Castle,  which  had  been  taken 
out  of  the  same  privateer,  which  Mr.  Lambert  and  his 
kinsman  and  commander.  Lord  Wrotham,  had  brought 
into  Harwich  in  one  of  their  voyages  home  from  Flan- 
ders with  despatches  from  the  Great  Duke. 

His  toilet  completed  with  Mr.  Gumbo's  aid,  his  fair 
hair  neatly  dressed  by  that  artist,  and  his  open  ribboned 
sleeve  and  wounded  shoulder  supported  by  a  handker- 
chief which  hung  from  Ills  neck,  Harry  Warrington 
made  his  way  out  of  his  sick-chamber,  ])receded  by  his 
kind  host,  wlio  led  him  first  down  a  broad  oak  stair, 
round  whicli  hung  many  pikes  and  muskets  of  ancient 
shape,  and  so  into  a  square  marble  paved  room,  from 
which  the  living-rooms  of  tlie  house  branclied  off.  There 
were  more  arms  in  this  hall  —  })ikes  and  hal])erts  of  an- 
cient date,  pistols  and  jack -boots  of  more  than  a  century 
old,  that  had  done  service  in  Cromwell's  wars,  a  tattered 


288  THE  VIRGINIANS 

French  guidon  which  had  heen  borne  by  a  French  gen- 
darme at  Malplaquet,  and  a  pair  of  cumbrous  Highland 
broadswords,  which,  having  been  carried  as  far  as 
Derb}^,  had  been  flung  away  on  the  fatal  field  of  Cul- 
loden.  Here  were  breastplates  and  black  morions  of 
Oliver's  troopers,  and  portraits  of  stern  warriors  in  buff 
jerkins  and  plain  bands  and  short  hair.  "  They  fought 
against  j^our  grandfathers  and  King  Charles,  JNIr.  War- 
rington," said  Harrj^'s  host.  "  I  don't  hide  that.  They 
rode  to  join  the  Prince  of  Orange  at  Exeter.  We  were 
Whigs,  }^oung  gentleman,  and  something  more.  John 
Lambert,  the  Major-General,  was  a  kinsman  of  our 
house,  and  we  were  all  more  or  less  partial  to  short  hair 
and  long  sermons.  You  do  not  seem  to  like  either?" 
Indeed,  Harry's  face  manifested  signs  of  anything  but 
pleasure  whilst  he  examined  the  portraits  of  the  Parlia- 
mentary heroes.  "  Be  not  alarmed,  we  are  very  good 
churchmen  now.  IMy  eldest  son  will  be  in  orders  ere 
long.  He  is  now  travelling  as  governor  to  my  Lord 
Wrotham's  son  in  Italy,  and  as  for  our  women,  they  are 
all  for  the  Church,  and  carry  me  with  'em.  Every 
woman  is  a  Tory  at  heart.  Mr.  Pope  says  a  rake,  but 
I  think  t'other  is  the  more  charitable  word.  Come,  let 
us  go  see  them."  And  flinging  open  the  dark  oak  door, 
Colonel  Lambert  led  his  young  guest  into  the  parlour 
where  the  ladies  were  assembled. 

"  Here  is  Miss  Hester,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  and  this 
is  Miss  Theo,  the  soup-maker,  the  tailoress,  the  harpsi- 
chord player,  and  the  songstress,  who  set  you  to  sleep 
last  night.  Make  a  curtsey  to  the  gentleman,  young 
ladies!  Oh,  I  forgot,  and  Theo  is  the  mistress  of  the 
roses  which  you  admired  a  short  while  since  in  your  bed- 
room.   I  think  she  has  kept  some  of  them  in  her  cheeks." 


THE  VIRGINIANS  289 

In  fact,  ]Miss  Tlieo  was  making  a  profound  curtsey 
and  blushing  most  modestly  as  her  papa  spoke.  I  am 
not  going  to  describe  her  person, — though  we  shall  see 
a  great  deal  of  her  in  the  course  of  this  history.  She  was 
not  a  particular  beauty.  Harry  Warrington  was  not  over 
head  and  ears  in  love  with  her  at  an  instant's  warning, 
and  faithless  to — to  that  other  individual  with  whom,  as 
we  have  seen,  the  youth  had  lately  been  smitten.  Miss 
Theo  had  kind  eyes  and  a  sweet  voice ;  a  ruddy  freckled 
cheek  and  a  round  white  neck,  on  which,  out  of  a  little 
cap  such  as  misses  wore  in  those  times,  fell  rich  curling 
clusters  of  dark  brown  hair.  She  was  not  a  delicate  or 
sentimental-looking  person.  Her  arms,  which  were 
worn  bare  from  the  elbow  like  other  ladies'  arms  in 
those  days,  were  very  jolly  and  red.  Her  feet  were  not 
so  miraculously  small  but  that  you  could  see  them  with- 
out a  telescope.  There  was  nothing  waspish  about  her 
waist.  This  young  person  was  sixteen  years  of  age,  and 
looked  older.  I  don't  know  what  call  she  had  to  blush 
so  when  she  made  her  curtsey  to  the  stranger.  It  was 
such  a  deep  ceremonial  curtsey  as  you  never  see  at  pres- 
ent. She  and  her  sister  both  made  these  "  cheeses  "  in 
com])liment  to  the  new  comer,  and  with  much  stately 
agility. 

As  Miss  Theo  rose  up  out  of  this  salute,  her  papa 
ta]jpc'd  her  under  tlie  chin  (wliich  was  of  the  double  sort 
of  chins) ,  and  laughingly  hummed  out  the  line  which  he 
had  read  the  day  before.  ""  Eh  hicn!  que  dites-vous,  ma 
fille,  de  notre  hate?  " 

"  Nonsense,  Mr.  Lambert!  "  cries  mamma. 

"  Nonsense  is  sometimes  the  best  kind  of  sense  in  the 
world,"  said  Colonel  Lambert.  His  guest  looked 
puzzled. 


290  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  Are  you  fond  of  nonsense?  "  the  Colonel  continued 
to  Harry,  seeing  by  the  boy's  face  that  the  latter  had  no 
great  love  or  comprehension  of  his  favourite  humour. 
"  We  consume  a  vast  deal  of  it  in  this  house.  Rabelais 
is  my  favourite  reading.  ]\Iy  wife  is  all  for  Mr.  Field- 
ing and  Theophrastus.  I  think  Theo  prefers  Tom 
Brown,  and  Mrs.  Hetty  here  loves  Dean  Swift." 

"  Our  papa  is  talking  what  he  loves,"  says  Miss 
Hetty. 

"And  what  is  that,  Miss?"  asks  the  father  of  his 
second  daughter. 

"  Sure,  sir,  you  said  yourself  it  was  nonsense,"  an- 
swers the  young  lady,  with  a  saucy  toss  of  her  head. 

"  Which  of  them  do  you  like  best,  Mr.  Warrington?  " 
asked  the  honest  Colonel. 

"  Which  of  whom,  sir?  " 

"  The  Curate  of  Meudon,  or  the  Dean  of  St.  Pat- 
rick's, or  honest  Tom,  or  Mr.  Fielding?  " 

"  And  what  were  they,  sir?  " 

"  They!    Why,  they  wrote  books." 

"  Indeed,  sir?  I  never  heard  of  either  one  of  'em," 
said  Harry,  hanging  down  his  head.  "  I  fear  my  book 
learning  was  neglected  at  home,  sir.  My  brother  had 
read  every  book  that  ever  was  wrote,  I  think.  He  could 
have  talked  to  you  about  'em  for  hours  together." 

With  this  little  speech  Mrs.  Lambert's  eyes  turned 
to  her  daughter,  and  INIiss  Theo  cast  hers  down  and 
blushed. 

"  Never  mind,  honesty  is  better  than  books  any  day, 
Mr.  Warrington!  "  cried  the  jolly  Colonel.  "  You  may 
go  througli  the  world  very  honourably  without  reading 
any  of  the  books  I  have  been  talking  of,  and  some  of 
them  might  give  you  more  pleasure  than  profit." 


THE  VIRGINIANS  291 

"  I  know  more  about  horses  and  dogs  than  Greek  and 
Latin,  sir.  We  most  of  us  do  in  Virginia,"  said  Mr. 
Warrington. 

"  You  are  Hke  the  Persians;  you  can  ride  and  speak 
the  truth." 

"  Are  the  Prussians  very  good  on  horseback,  sir?  I 
hope  I  shall  see  their  king  and  a  campaign  or  two,  either 
with  'em  or  against  'em,"  remarked  Colonel  Lambert's 
guest.  Wh)^  did  JNIiss  Theo  look  at  her  mother,  and  why 
did  that  good  woman's  face  assume  a  sad  expression? 

Why?  Because  young  lasses  are  bred  in  humdrum 
country  towns,  do  you  suppose  they  never  indulge  in 
romances?  Because  they  are  modest  and  have  never 
quitted  mother's  apron,  do  you  suppose  they  have  no 
thoughts  of  their  own?  What  happens  in  spite  of  all 
those  precautions  which  the  King  and  Queen  take  for 
their  darling  princess,  those  dragons,  and  that  impene- 
trable forest,  and  that  castle  of  steel?  The  fairy  prince 
penetrates  the  impenetrable  forest,  finds  the  weak  point 
in  the  dragon's  scale  armour,  and  gets  the  better  of  all 
the  ogres  who  guard  the  castle  of  steel.  Away  goes  the 
princess  to  him.  She  knew  him  at  once.  Her  band- 
boxes and  portmanteaux  are  filled  with  her  best  clothes 
and  all  her  jewels.     She  has  been  ready  ever  so  long! 

That  is  in  fairy  tales,  you  understand— where  the 
blessed  hour  and  youtli  always  arrive,  the  ivory  horn 
is  blown  at  the  castle-gate;  and  far  off  in  her  beauteous 
bower  tlie  princess  hears  it,  and  starts  up,  and  knows 
that  there  is  the  right  cliampion.  He  is  always  ready. 
TiOok!  how  the  giants'  heads  tumble  off  as,  fak'hion  in 
hand,  he  gallops  over  the  bridge  on  his  white  charger! 
How  should  that  virgin,  locked  up  in  that  inaccessible 
fortress,  where  she  has  never  seen  an}''  man  that  was  not 


292  THE  VIRGINIANS 

eighty,  or  hump-backed,  or  her  father,  know  that  there 
were  such  beings  in  the  world  as  young  men?  I  sup- 
pose there's  an  instinct.  I  suppose  there's  a  season.  I 
never  spoke  for  my  part  to  a  fairy  princess,  or  heard 
as  much  from  an}^  unenchanted  or  enchanting  maiden. 
Ne'er  a  one  of  them  has  ever  whispered  her  pretty  little 
secrets  to  me,  or  perhaps  confessed  them  to  herself,  her 
mamma,  or  her  nearest  and  dearest  confidante.  But 
they  will  fall  in  love.  Their  little  hearts  are  constantly 
throbbing  at  the  window  of  expectancy  on  the  look-out 
for  the  champion.  They  are  always  hearing  his  horn. 
They  are  for  ever  on  the  tower  looking  out  for  the  hero. 
Sister  Ann,  Sister  Ann,  do  you  see  him?  Surely  'tis  a 
knight  with  curling  moustaches,  a  flashing  scimitar,  and 
a  suit  of  silver  armour.  Oh,  no!  it  is  only  a  coster- 
monger  with  his  donkey  and  a  pannier  of  cabbage !  Sis- 
ter Ann,  Sister  Ann,  what  is  that  cloud  of  dust  ?  Oh,  it 
is  only  a  farmer's  man  driving  a  flock  of  pigs  from  mar- 
ket. Sister  Ann,  Sister  Ann,  who  is  that  splendid  war- 
rior advancing  in  scarlet  and  gold  ?  He  nears  the  castle, 
he  clears  the  drawbridge,  he  lifts  the  ponderous  hammer 
at  the  gate.  Ah  me,  he  knocks  twice!  'Tis  only  the 
postman  with  a  double  letter  from  Northamptonshire! 
So  it  is  we  make  false  starts  in  life.  I  don't  believe  there 
is  any  such  thing  known  as  first  love — not  within 
man's  or  woman's  memory.  No  male  or  female  remem- 
bers his  or  her  first  inclination  any  more  than  his  or  her 
own  christening.  What?  You  fancy  that  your  sweet 
mistress,  your  spotless  spinster,  your  blank  maiden  just 
out  of  the  school-room,  never  cared  for  any  but  you? 
And  she  tells  you  so?  Oh,  you  idiot!  When  she  was 
four  years  old  she  had  a  tender  feeling  towards  the  But- 
tons who  brought  the  coals  up  to  the  nursery,  or  the 


THE  VIRGINIANS  293 

little  sweep  at  the  crossing,  or  the  music-master,  or  never 
mind  whom.  She  had  a  secret  longing  towards  her 
brother's  schoolf  ellow%  or  the  third  charity  boy  at  church, 
and  if  occasion  had  served,  the  comed}^  enacted  with  you 
had  been  performed  along  with  another.  I  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  she  confessed  this  amatory  sentiment,  but 
that  she  had  it.  Lay  down  this  page,  and  think  how 
many  and  many  and  many  a  time  you  were  in  love  be- 
fore you  selected  the  present  Mrs.  Jones  as  the  partner 
of  your  name  and  affections! 

So,  from  the  way  in  which  Theo  held  her  head  down, 
and  exchanged  looks  with  her  mother,  when  poor  un- 
conscious Harry  called  the  Persians  the  Prussians,  and 
talked  of  serving  a  campaign  with  them,  I  make  no 
doubt  she  was  feeling  ashamed,  and  thinking  within 
herself,  "  Is  this  the  hero  with  whom  my  mamma  and  I 
have  been  in  love  for  these  twenty-four  hours,  and  whom 
we  have  endowed  with  ever}^  perfection  ?  How  beautiful, 
pale,  and  graceful  he  looked  yesterday  as  he  lay  on  the 
ground!  How  his  curls  fell  over  his  face!  How  sad  it 
was  to  see  his  poor  white  arm,  and  the  blood  trickling 
from  it  when  papa  bled  him!  And  now  he  is  well  and 
amongst  us,  he  is  handsome  certainly,  but  oh,  is  it  pos- 
sible he  is — he  is  stupid?  "  When  she  lighted  the  lamp 
and  looked  at  him,  did  Psyche  find  Cupid  out;  and  is 
that  the  meaning  of  the  old  allegory?  The  wings  of 
love  drop  off  at  this  discovery.  The  fancy  can  no  more 
soar  and  disport  in  skiey  regions,  the  beloved  object 
ceases  at  once  to  be  celestial,  and  remains  plodding  on 
earth,  entirely  unromantic  and  substantial. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


HOLIDAYS 

RS.  LAMBERT'S 

little  day-dream 
was  over.  Miss 
Theo  and  her 
mother  were 

obliged  to  con- 
fess in  their 
hearts  that  their 
hero  was  but  an 
ordinary  mortal. 
They  uttered 
few  words  on 
the  subject,  but 
each  knew  the 
other's  thoughts  as  people  who  love  each  other  do;  and 
mamma,  by  an  extra  tenderness  and  special  caressing 
manner  towards  her  daughter,  sought  to  console  her  for 
her  disappointment.  "  Never  mind,  my  dear  " — the 
maternal  kiss  whispered  on  the  filial  cheek — "  our  hero 
has  turned  out  to  be  but  an  ordinary  mortal,  and  none 
such  is  good  enough  for  my  Theo.  Thou  shalt  have  a 
real  husband  ere  long,  if  there  be  one  in  England. 
Why,  I  was  scarce  fifteen  when  your  father  saw  me  at 
the  Bury  Assembly,  and  while  I  was  yet  at  school,  I 
used  to  vow  that  I  never  would  have  any  other  man. 
If  heaven  gave  me  such  a  husband — the  best  man  in 

59.4 


THE  VIRGINIANS  295 

the  whole  kingdom— sure  it  will  bless  my  child  equally, 
who  deserves  a  king,  if  she  fancies  him!  "  Indeed,  I  am 
not  sure  that  Mrs.  Lambert— who,  of  course,  knew  the 
"age  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  was  aware  how  hand- 
some and  good  a  young  prince  he  was— did  not  expect 
that  he  too  would  come  riding  by  her  gate,  and  perhaps 
tumble  down  from  his  horse  there,  and  be  taken  into 
the  house,  and  be  cured,  and  cause  his  royal  grandpapa 
to  give  Martin  Lambert  a  regiment,  and  fall  in  love 
with  Theo. 

The  Colonel,  for  his  part,  and  his  second  daughter 
Miss  Hetty,  were  on  the  laughing,  scornful,  unbeliev- 
ing side.  IMamma  was  always  match-making.  Indeed, 
Mrs.  Lambert  was  much  addicted  to  novels,  and  cried 
her  eyes  out  over  them  with  great  assiduity.  No  coach 
ever  passed  the  gate,  but  she  expected  a  husband  for  her 
girls  would  aliglit  from  it  and  ring  the  bell.  As  for 
iSIiss  Hetty,  she  allowed  her  tongue  to  wag  in  a  more 
than  usually  saucy  way:  she  made  a  hundred  sly  allu- 
sions to  their  guest.  She  introduced  Prussia  and  Persia 
into  their  conversation  with  abominable  pertness  and 
frequency.  She  asked  whether  the  present  King  of 
Prussia  was  called  the  Shaw  or  the  Sophy,  and  how 
far  it  was  from  Ispahan  to  Saxony,  wliich  his  Majesty 
was  at  present  invading,  and  about  which  war  papa  was 
so  busy  with  his  maps  and  his  newspapers.  Slie  brought 
down  the  "  Persian  Tales  "  from  her  mamma's  closet, 
and  laid  them  slily  on  the  table  in  the  parloui-  where  the 
familv  sat.  SJie  would  not  marrv  a  Persian  T)rince  for 
her  part;  slie  would  prefer  a  gentleman  wlio  might  not 
have  more  than  one  wife  at  a  time.  Slie  called  our 
young  Virginian  Theo's  gcuilcniaii,  Tlieo's  prince.  She 
asked  mamma  if  she  wished  her,  Hetty,  to  take  the  other 


296  THE  VIRGINIANS 

visitor,  the  black  prince,  for  herself?  Indeed,  she  rallied 
her  sister  and  her  mother  unceasingly  on  their  sentimen- 
talities, and  would  never  stop  until  she  had  made  them 
angry,  when  she  would  begin  to  cry  herself,  and  kiss 
them  violentl}^  one  after  the  other,  and  coax  them  back 
into  good  humour.  Simple  Harry  Warrington,  mean- 
while, knew  nothing  of  all  the  jokes,  the  tears,  quarrels, 
reconciliations,  hymeneal  plans,  and  so  forth,  of  which  he 
was  the  innocent  occasion.  A  hundred  allusions  to  the 
Prussians  and  Persians  were  shot  at  him,  and  those 
Parthian  arrows  did  not  penetrate  his  hide  at  all.  A 
Shaw?  A  Sophy?  Very  likely  he  thought  a  Sophy 
was  a  lady,  and  would  have  deemed  it  the  height  of 
absurdity  that  a  man  with  a  great  black  beard  should 
have  any  such  name.  We  fall  into  the  midst  of  a  quiet 
family:  we  drop  like  a  stone,  say,  into  a  pool, — we  are 
perfectly  compact  and  cool,  and  little  know  the  flutter 
and  excitement  we  make  there,  disturbing  the  fish, 
frightening  the  ducks,  and  agitating  the  whole  sur- 
face of  the  water.  How  should  Harry  know  the  effect 
which  his  sudden  appearance  produced  in  this  little  quiet 
sentimental  family?  He  thought  quite  well  enough  of 
himself  on  many  points,  but  was  diffident  as  yet  regard- 
ing women,  being  of  that  age  when  young  gentlemen 
require  encouragement  and  to  be  brought  forward,  and 
having  been  brought  up  at  home  in  very  modest  and 
primitive  relations  towards  the  other  sex.  So  Miss 
Hetty's  jokes  played  round  the  lad,  and  he  minded  them 
no  more  than  so  many  summer  gnats.  It  was  not  that 
he  was  stupid,  as  she  certainly  thought  him:  he  was 
simple,  too  much  occupied  with  himself  and  his  own  pri- 
vate affairs  to  think  of  others.  Why,  what  tragedies, 
comedies,   interludes,   intrigues,   farces,   are   going   on 


THE  VIRGINIANS  297 

under  our  noses  in  friends'  drawing-rooms  where  we 
visit  every  day,  and  we  remain  utterly  ignorant,  self- 
satisfied,  and  blind!  As  these  sisters  sat  and  combed 
5- their  flowing  ringlets  of  nights,  or  talked  with  each 
other  in  the  great  bed  where,  according  to  the  fashion 
of  the  day,  thej^  lay  together,  how  should  Harry  know 
that  he  had  so  great  a  share  in  their  thoughts,  jokes,  con- 
versation? Three  days  after  his  arrival,  his  new  and 
hospitable  friends  were  walking  with  him  in  my  Lord 
Wrotham's  fine  park,  where  they  were  free  to  wander; 
and  here,  on  a  piece  of  water,  they  came  to  some  swans, 
which  the  young  ladies  were  in  the  habit  of  feeding  with 
bread.  As  the  birds  approached  the  young  women, 
Hetty  said,  with  a  queer  look  at  her  mother  and  sister, 
and  then  a  glance  at  her  father,  who  stood  by,  honest, 
happy,  in  a  red  waistcoat, — Hetty  said:  "Mamma's 
swans  are  something  like  these,  papa." 

"  What  swans,  my  dear?  "  says  mamma. 

"  Something  like,  but  not  quite.  They  have  shorter 
necks  than  these,  and  are,  scores  of  them,  on  our  com- 
mon," continues  INIiss  Hetty.  "  I  saw  Betty  plucking 
one  in  the  kitchen  this  morning.  We  shall  have  it  for 
dinner,  with  apple-sauce  and — " 

"  Don't  be  a  little  goose!  "  says  Miss  Theo. 

"And  sage  and  onions.  Do  you  love  swan,  Mr.  War- 
rington? " 

"  I  shot  three  last  winter  on  onr  river,"  said  the  Vir- 
ginian gentleman.  "  Ours  are  not  such  white  birds  as 
these — they  eat  very  well,  though."  The  simple  youth 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  that  he  himself  was  an  alle- 
gory at  that  very  time,  and  that  Miss  Hetty  was  narrat- 
ing a  fable  regarding  him.  In  some  exceedingly  recon- 
dite Latin  work  I  liave  read  that,  long  before  Virginia 


298  THE  VIRGINIANS 

was  discovered,  other  folks  were  equally  dull  of  com- 
prehension. 

So  it  was  a  premature  sentiment  on  the  part  of  Miss 
Theo — that  little  tender  flutter  of  the  bosom  which  we 
have  acknowledged  she  felt  on  first  beholding  the  Vir- 
ginian, so  handsome,  pale,  and  bleeding.  This  was  not 
the  great  passion  which  she  knew  her  heart  could 
feel.  Like  the  birds,  it  had  wakened  and  begun  to  sing 
at  a  false  dawn.  Hop  back  to  thy  perch,  and  cover  thy 
head  with  thy  wing ,  thou  tremulous  little  fluttering 
creature!  It  is  not  yet  light,  and  roosting  is  as  yet  bet- 
ter than  singing.  Anon  will  come  morning,  and  the 
whole  sky  will  redden,  and  you  shall  soar  up  into  it  and 
salute  the  sun  with  your  music. 

One  little  phrase,  some  three-and-thirty  lines  back, 
perhaps  the  fair  and  suspicious  reader  has  remarked: 
"  Three  days  after  his  arrival^  Harry  was  walking  with," 
&c.  &c.  If  he  could  walk — which  it  appeared  he  could 
do  perfectly  well — what  business  had  he  to  be  walking 
with  anybody  but  Lady  Maria  Esmond  on  the  Pantiles, 
Tunbridge  Wells?  His  shoulder  was  set:  his  health 
was  entirely  restored :  he  had  not  even  a  change  of  coats, 
as  we  have  seen,  and  was  obliged  to  the  Colonel  for  his 
raiment.  Surely  a  young  man  in  such  a  condition  had 
no  right  to  be  lingering  on  at  Oakhurst,  and  was  bound 
by  every  tie  of  duty  and  convenience,  by  love,  by  re- 
lationship, by  a  gentle  heart  waiting  for  him,  by  the 
washerwoman  finally,  to  go  to  Tunbridge.  Why  did  he 
stay  behind,  unless  he  was  in  love  with  either  of  the 
young  ladies?  (and  we  say  he  wasn't.)  Could  it  be 
that  he  did  not  want  to  go?  Hath  the  gracious  reader 
understood  the  meaning  of  the  mystic  S  with  which  the 
last  chapter  commences  and  in  which  the  designer  has 
feebly  endeavoured  to  depict  the  notorious  Sindbad  the 


THE  VIRGINIANS  299 

Sailor  surmounted  by  that  odious  old  man  of  the  sea? 
What  if  Harry  Warrington  should  be  that  sailor,  and 
his  fate  that  choking,  deadening,  inevitable  old  man? 
What  if  for  two  days  past  he  has  felt  those  knees  throt- 
tling him  round  the  neck?  if  his  fell  aunt's  purpose  is 
answered,  and  if  his  late  love  is  killed  as  dead  by  her 
poisonous  communications  as  Fair  Rosamond  was  by 
her  royal  and  legitimate  rival?  Is  Hero  then  lighting 
the  lamp  up,  and  getting  ready  the  supper,  whilst  Lean- 
der  is  sitting  comfortably  with  some  other  party,  and 
never  in  the  least  thinking  of  taking  to  the  water?  Eiver 
since  that  coward's  blow  was  struck  in  Lady  Maria's 
back  by  her  own  relative,  surely  kind  hearts  must  pity 
her  ladyship.  I  know  she  has  faults— ay,  and  wears 
false  hair  and  false  never  mind  what.  But  a  woman  in 
distress,  shall  we  not  pity  her — a  lad}^  of  a  certain  age, 
are  we  going  to  laugh  at  her  because  of  her  years?  Be- 
tween her  old  aunt  and  her  unhappy  delusion,  be  sure 
my  Lady  ]Maria  Esmond  is  having  no  very  pleasant 
time  of  it  at  Tunbridge  Wells.  There  is  no  one  to  pro- 
tect her.  Madame  Beatrix  has  her  all  to  herself.  Lady 
Maria  is  poor,  and  hopes  for  money  from  her  aunt.  Lady 
Maria  has  a  secret  or  two  which  the  old  woman  knows, 
and  brandishes  over  her.  I  for  one  am  quite  melted  and 
grow  soft-hearted  as  I  think  of  her.  Imagine  her  alone, 
and  a  victim  to  that  old  woman !  Paint  to  j'-ourself  that 
antique  Andromeda  (if  you  please  we  will  allow  that 
rich  flowing  head  of  hair  to  fall  over  her  shoulders) 
chained  to  a  rock  on  ISIoimt  E])liraim,  and  given  up  to 
that  dragon  of  a  Baroness!  Succour,  Perseus!  Come 
quickly  with  thy  winged  feet  and  flashing  falchion! 
Perseus  is  not  in  the  least  hurry.  The  dragon  lias  her 
will  of  Andromeda  for  day  after  day. 

Harry  Warrington,  who  would  not  have  allowed  his 


300  THE  VIRGINIANS 

dislocated  and  mended  shoulder  to  keep  him  from  going 
out  hunting,  remained  day  after  day  contentedly  at 
Oakhurst,  with  each  day  finding  the  kindly  folks  who 
welcomed  him  more  to  his  liking.  Perhaps  he  had  never, 
since  his  grandfather's  death,  been  in  such  good  com- 
pany. His  lot  had  lain  amongst  fox-hunting  Virginian 
squires,  with  whose  society  he  had  put  up  very  content- 
edly, riding  their  horses,  living  their  lives,  and  sharing 
their  punch-bowls.  The  ladies  of  his  own  and  mother's 
acquaintance  were  very  well  bred,  and  decorous,  and 
pious,  no  doubt,  but  somewhat  narrow-minded.  It  was 
but  a  little  place,  his  home,  with  its  pompous  ways,  small 
etiquettes  and  punctilios,  small  flatteries,  small  conver- 
sations and  scandals.  Until  he  had  left  the  place  some 
time  after,  he  did  not  know  how  narrow  and  confined  his 
life  had  been  there.  He  was  free  enough  personally. 
He  had  dogs  and  horses,  and  might  shoot  and  hunt  for 
scores  of  miles  round  about:  but  the  little  lady  mother 
domineered  at  home,  and  when  there  he  had  to  submit 
to  her  influence  and  breathe  her  air. 

Here  the  lad  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  circle 
where  everything  about  him  was  incomparably  gayer, 
brighter,  and  more  free.  He  was  living  with  a  man  and 
woman  who  had  seen  the  world,  though  they  lived  re- 
tired from  it,  who  had  both  of  them  happened  to  enjoy 
from  their  earliest  times  the  use  not  only  of  good  books, 
but  of  good  company — those  live  books,  which  are  such 
pleasant  and  sometimes  such  profitable  reading.  So- 
ciety has  this  good  at  least:  that  it  lessens  our  conceit, 
by  teaching  us  our  insignificance,  and  making  us  ac- 
quainted with  our  betters.  If  you  are  a  young  person 
who  read  this,  depend  upon  it,  sir  or  madam,  there  is 
nothing  more  wholesome  for  you  than  to  acknowledge 


THE  VIRGINIANS  301 

and  to  associate  with  your  superiors.  If  I  could,  I 
would  not  have  my  son  Thomas  first  Greek  and  Latin 
prize  boy,  first  oar,  and  cock  of  the  school.  Better  for 
^*  his  soul's  and  body's  welfare  that  he  should  have  a  good 
place,  not  the  first— a  fair  set  of  competitors  round 
about  him,  and  a  good  thrashing  now  and  then,  with  a 
hearty  shake  afterwards  of  the  hand  which  administered 
the  beating.  What  honest  man  that  can  choose  his  lot 
would  be  a  prince,  let  us  say,  and  have  all  society  walk- 
ing backwards  before  him,  only  obsequious  household- 
gentlemen  to  talk  to,  and  all  mankind  mum  except  when 
your  High  Mightiness  asks  a  question  and  gives  per- 
mission to  speak?  One  of  the  great  benefits  which 
Harry  Warrington  received  from  this  family,  before 
whose  gate  Fate  had  shot  him,  was  to  begin  to  learn 
that  he  was  a  profoundly  ignorant  young  fellow,  and 
that  there  were  many  people  in  the  world  far  better  than 
he  knew  himself  to  be.  Arrogant  a  little  with  some 
folks,  in  the  company  of  his  superiors  he  was  magnani- 
mously docile.  We  have  seen  how  faithfully  he  admired 
his  brother  at  home,  and  his  friend,  the  gallant  young 
Colonel  of  Mount  Vernon:  of  the  gentlemen  his  kins- 
men at  Castle  wood,  he  had  felt  himself  at  least  the  equal. 
In  his  new  acquaintance  at  Oakhurst  he  found  a  man 
who  had  read  far  more  books  than  Harry  could  pretend 
to  judge  of,  who  had  seen  the  world  and  come  un- 
wounded  out  of  it,  as  he  had  out  of  the  dangers  and 
battles  which  he  had  confronted,  and  who  had  goodness 
and  honesty  written  on  his  face  and  breathing  from  his 
lips,  for  which  qualities  our  brave  lad  had  always  an 
instinctive  sympathy  and  predilection. 

As  for  the  women,  they  were  the  kindest,  merriest, 
most  agreeable  he  had  as  yet  known.    They  were  pleas- 


302  THE  VIRGINIANS 

anter  than  Parson  Broadbent's  black-eyed  daughter  at 
home,  whose  hiugh  carried  as  far  as  a  gun.    They  were 
quite  as  well-bred  as  the  Castlewood  ladies,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  ;Madam  Beatrix  (who,  indeed,  was  as  grand 
as  an  empress  on  some  occasions) .    But  somehow,  after 
a  talk  with  ]\Iadam  Beatrix,  and  vast  amusement  and 
interest  in  her  stories,  the  lad  would  come  away  as  with 
a  bitter  taste  in  his  mouth,  and  fancy  all  the  world 
wicked   round    about   him.      The   Lamberts   were   not 
squeamish;    and  laughed  over  pages  of  Mr.  Fielding, 
and  cried  over  volumes  of  Mr.  Richardson,  containing 
jokes  and  incidents  which  would  make  Mrs.  Grundy's 
hair  stand  on  end,  yet  their  merry  prattle  left  no  bitter- 
ness behind  it ;  their  tales  about  this  neighbour  and  that 
were  droll,  not  malicious;    the  curtseys  and  salutations 
with  which  the  folks  of  the  little  neighbouring  town  re- 
ceived them,  how  kindly  and  cheerful!    their  bounties 
how  cordial !    Of  a  truth  it  is  good  to  be  with  good  peo- 
ple.   How  good  Harry  Warrington  did  not  know  at  the 
time,  perhaps,  or  until  subsequent  experience  showed 
him  contrasts,  or  caused  him  to  feel  remorse.    Here  was 
a  tranquil,  sunshiny  day  of  a  life  that  was  to  be  agitated 
and  stormy— a  happy  hour  or  two  to  remember.     Not 
much  happened  during  the  happy  hour  or  two.    It  was 
only  sweet  sleep,  pleasant  waking,  friendly  welcome, 
serene  pastime.     The  gates  of  the  old  house  seemed  to 
shut  the  wicked  world  out  somehow,  and  the  inhabitants 
within  to  be  better,  and  purer,  and  kinder  than  other 
people.     He  was  not  in  love.     Oh,  no!    not  the  least, 
either  with  saucy  Hetty  or  generous  Theodosia:    but 
when  the  time  came  for  going  away,  he  fastened  on  both 
their  hands,  and  felt  an  immense  regard  for  them.    He 
thought  he  should  like  to  know  their  brothers,  and  that 


THE  VIRGINIANS  303 

they  must  be  fine  fellows;  and  as  for  ^Irs.  Lambert,  I 
believe  she  was  as  sentimental  at  his  departure  as  if  he 
had  been  the  last  volume  of  Clarissa  Harlowe. 
0  "  He  is  very  kind  and  honest,"  said  Theo,  gravely,  as, 
looking  from  the  terrace,  they  saw  him  and  their  father 
and  servants  riding  away  on  the  road  to  Westerham. 

"I  don't  think  him  stupid  at  all  now,"  said  little 
Hetty;  "and,  mamma,  I  think  he  is  very  like  a  swan 
indeed." 

"  It  felt  just  like  one  of  the  boys  going  to  school,"  said 
mamma. 

"  Just  like  it,"  said  Theo,  sadly. 

"  I  am  glad  he  has  got  papa  to  ride  with  him  to  West- 
erham," resumed  Miss  Hetty,  "  and  that  he  bought 
Farmer  Briggs's  horse.  I  don't  like  his  going  to  those 
Castlewood  people.  I  am  sure  that  Madame  Bernstein 
is  a  wicked  old  woman.  I  expected  to  see  her  ride  away 
on  her  crooked  stick." 

"Hush,  Hetty!" 

"  Do  you  think  she  w^ould  float  if  they  tried  her  in 
the  pond  as  poor  old  Mother  Hely  did  at  Elmhurst? 
The  other  old  woman  seemed  fond  of  him— I  mean  the 
one  with  the  fair  tour.  She  looked  very  melancholy  when 
she  went  away ;  but  IVIadame  Bernstein  whisked  her  off 
with  her  crutch,  and  she  was  obliged  to  go.  I  don't  care, 
Theo.  I  know  she  is  a  wicked  woman.  You  think  every- 
body good,  you  do,  because  you  never  do  anything  wrong 
yourself." 

"  My  Theo  is  a  good  girl,"  says  tlie  mother,  looking 
fondly  at  both  her  daugliters. 

"  Then  why  do  we  call  her  a  miserable  sinner?  " 

"  We  are  all  so,  my  love,"  said  mamma. 

"  What,  papa  too?    You  know  you  don't  think  so," 


304  THE  VmCINIANS 

cries  Miss  Hester.  And  to  allow  this  was  almost  more 
than  Mrs.  Lambert  could  afford. 

"  What  was  that  you  told  John  to  give  to  Mr.  War- 
rington's black  man? " 

Mamma  owned,  with  some  shamefacedness,  it  was  a 
bottle  of  her  cordial  water  and  a  cake  which  she  had 
bid  Betty  make.  "  I  feel  quite  like  a  mother  to  him, 
my  dears,  I  can't  help  owning  it,— and  you  know  both 
our  boys  still  like  one  of  our  cakes  to  take  to  school  or 
college  with  them." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


FROM    OAKHURST   TO   TUNBRIDGE 


AVING  her  lily 
handkerchief 
in  token  of 
adieu  to  the 
departing  tra- 
vellers, Mrs. 
Lambert  and 
her  girls 

watched  them 
pacing  lei- 
surely on  the 
first  few  hun- 
dred yards  of 
their  journey, 
and  until  such 
time  as  a  tree- 
clumped  corner  of  the  road  hid  them  from  the  ladies' 
view.  Behind  that  clump  of  limes  the  good  matron  had 
many  a  time  watched  those  she  loved  best  disappear. 
Husband  departing  to  battle  and  danger,  sons  to  school, 
each  after  the  other  had  gone  on  his  way  behind  yonder 
green  trees,  returning  as  it  pleased  heaven's  will  at  his 
good  time,  and  bringing  pleasure  and  love  back  to  the 
happy  little  family.  Besides  their  own  instinctive  na- 
ture (which  to  be  sure  aids  wonderfully  in  the  matter), 
the   leisure   and   contemplation    attendant   upon    their 

305 


306  THE  VIRGINIANS 

home  life  serve  to  foster  the  tenderness  and  fidelity  of 
our  women.  The  men  gone,  there  is  all  day  to  think 
about  them,  and  to-morrow  and  to-morrow — when  there 
certainty  will  be  a  letter — and  so  on.  There  is  the  vacant 
room  to  go  look  at,  where  the  boy  slept  last  night,  and 
the  impression  of  his  carpet-bag  is  still  on  the  bed. 
There  is  his  whip  hung  up  in  the  hall,  and  his  fishing- 
rod  and  basket — mute  memorials  of  the  brief  bygone 
pleasures.  At  dinner  there  comes  up  that  cherry-tart, 
half  of  which  our  darling  ate  at  two  o'clock  in  spite  of 
his  melancholy,  and  with  a  choking  little  sister  on  each 
side  of  him.  The  evening  prayer  is  said  without  that 
3^oung  scholar's  voice  to  utter  the  due  responses.  Mid- 
night and  silence  come,  and  the  good  mother  lies  wake- 
ful, thinking  how  one  of  the  dear  accustomed  brood 
is  away  from  the  nest.  Morn  breaks,  home  and  holidays 
have  passed  away,  and  toil  and  labour  have  begun  for 
him.  So  those  rustling  limes  formed,  as  it  were,  a 
screen  between  the  world  and  our  ladies  of  the  house 
at  Oakhurst.  Kind-hearted  Mrs.  Lambert  always  be- 
came silent  and  thoughtful,  if  by  chance  she  and  her 
girls  walked  up  to  the  trees  in  the  absence  of  the  men 
of  the  family.  She  said  she  would  like  to  carve  their 
names  upon  the  grey  silvered  trunks,  in  the  midst  of 
true-lovers'  knots,  as  was  then  the  kindly  fashion;  and 
Miss  Theo,  who  had  an  exceeding  elegant  turn  that  way, 
made  some  verses  regarding  the  trees,  which  her  de- 
lighted parent  transmitted  to  a  periodical  of  those  daj^s. 
"  Now  we  are  out  of  sight  of  the  ladies,"  saj^s  Colonel 
Lambert,  giving  a  parting  salute  with  his  hat,  as  the 
pair  of  gentlemen  trotted  past  the  limes  in  question.  "  I 
know  my  wife  always  watches  at  her  window  until  we 
are  round  this  corner.    I  hope  we  shall  have  you  seeing 


Farewell 


THE  VIRGINIANS  307 

the  trees  and  the  house  again,  Mr.  Warrington ;  and  the 
boys  being  at  home,  mayhap  there  will  be  better  sport 
for  you." 

t  "I  never  want  to  be  happier,  sir,  than  I  have  been," 
replied  Mr.  Warrington;  "  and  I  hope  you  will  let  me 
say,  that  I  feel  as  if  I  am  leaving  quite  old  friends  be- 
hind me." 

"  The  friend  at  whose  house  we  shall  sup  to-night  hath 
a  son,  who  is  an  old  friend  of  our  family,  too,  and  my 
wife,  who  is  an  inveterate  marriage-monger,  would  have 
made  a  match  between  him  and  one  of  my  girls,  but  that 
the  Colonel  hath  chosen  to  fall  in  love  with  somebody 
else." 

"  Ah!  "  sighed  Mr.  Warrington. 

"  Other  folks  have  done  the  same  thing.  There  were 
brave  fellows  before  Agamemnon." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  Is  the  gentleman's  name — 
Aga — ?  I  did  not  quite  gather  it,"  meekly  inquired  the 
younger  traveller. 

"  No,  his  name  is  James  Wolfe,"  cried  the  Colonel, 
smiling.  "  He  is  a  young  fellow  still,  or  what  we  call 
so,  being  scarce  thirty  years  old.  He  is  the  youngest 
lieutenant-colonel  in  the  army,  unless,  to  be  sure,  we  ex- 
cept a  few  scores  of  our  nobility,  who  take  rank  before 
us  common  folk." 

"  Of  course,  of  course!  "  says  tlie  Colonel's  j^oung  com- 
panion, with  true  colonial  notions  of  aristorcratic  prece- 
dence. 

"  And  I  have  seen  him  commanding  captains,  and 
very  brave  captains,  who  were  thirty  years  liis  seniors, 
and  who  had  neither  his  merit  nor  liis  good  fortune.  But, 
lucky  as  he  hath  l)een,  no  one  envies  liis  su])eriority,  for, 
indeed,  most  of  us  acknowledge  tliat  he  is  our  superior. 


308  THE  VIRGINIANS 

He  is  beloved  by  every  man  of  our  old  regiment,  and 
knows  every  one  of  them.  He  is  a  good  scholar  as  well 
as  a  consummate  soldier,  and  a  master  of  many  lan- 
guages." 

"Ah,  sir!"  said  Harry  Warrington,  with  a  sigh  of 
great  humility;  "  I  feel  that  I  have  neglected  my  own 
youth  sadly;  and  am  come  to  England  but  an  ignora- 
mus. Had  m^^  dear  brother  been  alive,  he  would  have 
represented  our  name  and  our  colony,  too,  better  than  I 
can  do.  George  was  a  scholar;  George  was  a  musician; 
George  could  talk  with  the  most  learned  people  in  our 
country,  and  I  make  no  doubt  would  have  held  his  own 
here.  Do  you  know,  sir,  I  am  glad  to  have  come  home, 
and  to  you  especially,  if  but  to  learn  how  ignorant  I 


am." 


"  If  you  know  that  well,  'tis  a  great  gain  already," 
said  the  Colonel,  with  a  smile. 

"  At  home,  especially  of  late,  and  since  we  lost  my 
brother,  I  used  to  think  myself  a  mighty  fine  fellow,  and 
have  no  doubt  that  the  folks  round  about  flattered  me. 
I  am  wiser  now, — that  is,  I  hope  I  am, — though  perhaps 
I  am  wrong,  and  only  bragging  again.  But  you  see,  sir, 
the  gentry  in  our  colony  don't  know  very  much,  except 
about  dogs  and  horses,  and  betting  and  games.  I  wish 
I  knew  more  about  books,  and  less  about  them." 

"  Nay.  Dogs  and  horses  are  very  good  books,  too,  in 
their  way,  and  we  may  read  a  deal  of  truth  out  of  'em. 
Some  men  are  not  made  to  be  scholars,  and  may  be  very 
worthy  citizens  and  gentlemen  in  spite  of  their  ignorance. 
What  call  have  all  of  us  to  be  especially  learned  or  wise, 
or  to  take  a  first  place  in  the  world?  His  Royal  High- 
ness is  commander,  and  IMartin  Lambert  is  colonel,  and 
Jack  Hunt,  who  rides  behind  yonder,  was  a  private  sol- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  309 

dier,  and  is  now  a  veiy  honest,  worthy  groom.  So  as 
we  all  do  our  best  in  our  station,  it  matters  not  much 
whether  that  be  high  or  low.  Nay,  how  do  we  know 
what  is  high  and  what  is  low?  and  whether  Jack's  curry- 
comb, or  my  epaulets,  or  his  Royal  Highness's  baton,  may 
not  turn  out  to  be  pretty  equal?  When  I  began  life,  et 
militavi  non  sine— never  mind  what — I  dreamed  of  suc- 
cess and  honour ;  now  I  think  of  duty,  and  yonder  folks, 
from  whom  we  parted  a  few  hours  ago.  Let  us  trot  on, 
else  we  shall  not  reach  Westerham  before  nightfall." 

At  Westerham  the  two  friends  were  welcomed  by  their 
hosts,  a  stately  matron,  an  old  soldier,  whose  recollections 
and  services  were  of  five  and  forty  years  back,  and  the 
son  of  this  gentleman  and  lady,  the  Lieutenant-Colonel 
of  Kingsley's  regiment,  that  was  then  stationed  at  Maid- 
stone, whence  the  Colonel  had  come  over  on  a  brief  visit 
to  his  parents.  Harry  looked  with  some  curiosity  at  this 
officer,  who,  young  as  he  was,  had  seen  so  much  service, 
and  obtained  a  character  so  high.  There  was  little  of  the 
beautiful  in  his  face.  He  was  very  lean  and  very  pale; 
his  hair  was  red,  his  nose  and  cheek-bones  were  high ;  but 
he  had  a  fine  courtesy  towards  his  elders,  a  cordial  greet- 
ing towards  his  friends,  and  an  animation  in  conversa- 
tion which  caused  tliose  who  heard  him  to  forget,  even  to 
admire  his  homely  looks. 

JNIr.  Warrington  was  going  to  Tunbridge?  Their 
James  would  bear  him  company,  the  lady  of  the  house 
said,  and  whispered  sometliing  to  Colonel  Lambert  at 
supper,  which  occasioned  smiles  and  a  knowing  wink  or 
two  from  that  officer.  He  called  for  wine,  and  toasted 
"  Miss  Lowther."  "  Witli  all  my  heart,"  cried  the  enthu- 
siastic Colonel  James,  and  drained  his  glass  to  the  very 
last  drop.    Mamma  whispered  her  friend  how  James  and 


310  THE  VIRGINIANS 

the  lady  were  going  to  make  a  match,  and  how  she  came 
of  the  famous  Lowther  family  of  the  North. 

"  If  she  was  the  daughter  of  King  Charlemagne," 
cries  Lambert,  "  she  is  not  too  good  for  James  Wolfe,  or 
for  his  mother's  son." 

"  Mr.  Lambert  would  not  say  so  if  he  knew  her,"  the 
young  Colonel  declared. 

"  Oh,  of  course,  she  is  the  priceless  pearl,  and  you  are 
nothing,"  cries  mamma.  "  No.  I  am  of  Colonel  Lam- 
bert's opinion;  and,  if  she  brought  all  Cumberland  to 
you  for  a  jointure,  I  should  say  it  was  my  James's  due. 
That  is  the  way  with  'em,  Mr.  Warrington.  We  tend 
our  children  through  fevers,  and  measles,  and  whooping- 
cough,  and  small-pox;  we  send  them  to  the  army  and 
can't  sleep  at  night  for  thinking;  we  break  our  hearts 
at  parting  with  'em,  and  have  them  at  home  only  for  a 
week  or  two  in  the  year,  or  maybe  ten  years,  and,  after 
all  our  care,  there  comes  a  lass  with  a  pair  of  bright  eyes, 
and  away  goes  our  boy,  and  never  cares  a  fig  for  us  after- 
wards." 

"And  pray,  my  dear,  how  did  you  come  to  marry 
James's  papa?"  said  the  elder  Colonel  Wolfe.  "And 
why  didn't  you  stay  at  home  with  your  parents?  " 

"  Because  James's  papa  was  gouty,  and  wanted  some- 
body to  take  care  of  him,  I  suppose ;  not  because  I  liked 
him  a  bit,"  answers  the  lady:  and  so  with  much  easy  talk 
and  kindness  the  evening  passed  away. 

On  the  morrow,  and  with  many  expressions  of  kind- 
ness and  friendship  for  his  late  guest.  Colonel  Lambert 
gave  over  the  young  Virginian  to  Mr.  Wolfe's  charge, 
and  turned  his  horse's  head  homewards,  while  the  two 
gentlemen  sped  towards  Tunbridge  Wells.  Wolfe  was 
in  a  hurry  to  reach  the  place;   Harry  Warrington  was. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  311 

perhaps,  not  quite  so  eager:  nay,  when  Lambert  rode 
towards  his  own  home,  Harry's  thoughts  followed  him 
with  a  great  deal  of  longing  desire  to  the  parlour  at 
:?:  Oakhurst,  where  he  had  spent  three  days  in  happy  calm. 
]Mr.  Wolfe  agreed  in  all  Harry's  enthusiastic  praises  of 
INIr.  Lambert,  and  of  his  wife,  and  of  his  daughters,  and 
of  all  that  excellent  family.  "  To  have  such  a  good 
name,  and  to  live  such  a  life  as  Colonel  Lambert's," 
said  Wolfe,  "  seem  to  me  now  the  height  of  human 
ambition." 

"  And  glory  and  honour?  "  asked  Warrington.  "  Are 
those  nothing?  and  would  you  give  up  the  winning  of 
them?" 

"  They  were  my  dreams  once,"  answered  the  Colonel, 
who  had  now  different  ideas  of  happiness,  "  and  now  my 
desires  are  much  more  tranquil.  I  have  followed  arms 
ever  since  I  was  fourteen  years  of  age.  I  have  seen 
almost  every  kind  of  duty  connected  with  my  calling.  I 
know  all  the  garrison  towns  in  this  countrj^,  and  have 
had  the  honour  to  serve  wherever  there  has  been  work 
to  be  done  during  the  last  ten  j^ears.  I  have  done  pretty 
near  the  whole  of  a  soldier's  duty,  except,  indeed,  the 
command  of  an  army,  which  can  hardly  be  hoped  for  by 
one  of  my  years;  and  now,  methinks,  I  would  like  quiet, 
books  to  read,  a  wife  to  love  me,  and  some  children  to 
dandle  on  my  knee.  I  have  imagined  some  such  Elysium 
for  myself,  Mr.  Warrington.  Time  love  is  better  than 
glory;  and  a  tranquil  fireside,  with  the  woman  of  your 
heart  seated  by  it,  the  greatest  good  the  gods  can  send 
to  us." 

Harry  imagined  to  himself  tlie  ])icture  wbicli  liis  com- 
rade called  up.  He  said  "  Yes  "  in  answer  to  the  other's 
remark;  but,  no  doubt,  did  not  give  a  very  cheerful  as- 


312  THE  VIRGINIANS 

sent,  for  his  companion  observed  upon  the  expression  of 
his  face. 

"  You  say  '  Yes  '  as  if  a  fireside  and  a  sweetheart  were 
not  particularly  to  your  taste." 

"  Why,  look  you.  Colonel ;  there  are  other  things  which 
a  young  fellow  might  like  to  enjoy.  You  have  had  six- 
teen years  of  the  world:  and  I  am  but  a  few  months 
away  from  my  mother's  apron-strings.  When  I  have 
seen  a  campaign  or  two,  or  six,  as  you  have:  when  I 
have  distinguished  myself  like  Mr.  Wolfe,  and  made  the 
world  talk  of  me,  I  then  may  think  of  retiring  from  it." 

To  these  remarks,  Mr.  Wolfe,  whose  heart  was  full 
of  a  very  different  matter,  replied  by  breaking  out  in  a 
farther  encomium  of  the  joys  of  marriage;  and  a  special 
rhapsody  upon  the  beauties  and  merits  of  his  mistress — 
a  theme  intensely  interesting  to  himself,  though  not  so, 
possibly,  to  his  hearer,  whose  A^ews  regarding  a  married 
life,  if  he  permitted  himself  to  entertain  any,  were  some- 
what melancholy  and  despondent.  A  pleasant  afternoon 
brought  them  to  the  end  of  their  ride :  nor  did  any  acci- 
dent or  incident  accompany  it,  save,  perhaps,  a  mistake 
which  Harry  Warrington  made  at  some  few  miles'  dis- 
tance from  Tunbridge  Wells,  where  two  horsemen 
stopped  them,  whom  Harry  was  for  charging,  pistol  in 
hand,  supposing  them  to  be  highwaymen.  Colonel 
Wolfe,  laughing,  bade  Mr.  Warrington  reserve  his  fire, 
for  these  folks  were  only  innkeepers'  agents,  and  not 
robbers  (except  in  their  calling).  Gumbo,  whose  horse 
ran  away  with  him  at  this  particular  juncture,  was 
brought  back  after  a  great  deal  of  bawling  on  his  mas- 
ter's part,  and  the  two  gentlemen  rode  into  the  little 
town,  alighted  at  their  inn,  and  then  separated,  each  in 
quest  of  the  ladies  whom  he  had  come  to  visit. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  313 

jNIr.  Warrington  found  his  aunt  installed  in  handsome 
lodgings,  with  a  guard  of  London  lacqueys  in  her  ante- 
room, and  to  follow  her  chair  when  she  went  abroad. 
She  received  him  with  the  utmost  kindness.  His  cousin, 
my  Lady  INIaria,  was  absent  when  he  arrived:  I  don't 
know  whether  the  young  gentleman  was  unhappy  at  not 
seeing  her;  or  whether  he  disguised  his  feelings,  or 
wdiether  IMadame  de  Bernstein  took  any  note  regarding 
them. 

A  beau  in  a  rich  figured  suit,  the  first  specimen  of  the 
kind  Harrj^  had  seen,  and  two  dowagers  with  volumi- 
nous hoops  and  plenty  of  rouge,  were  on  a  visit  to  the 
Baroness  when  her  nephew  made  his  bow  to  her.  She 
introduced  the  young  man  to  these  personages  as  her 
nephew,  the  young  Croesus  out  of  Virginia,  of  whom 
they  had  heard.  She  talked  about  the  immensitj^  of  his 
estate,  which  was  as  large  as  Kent;  and,  as  she  had  read, 
infinitely  more  fruitful.  She  mentioned  how  her  half- 
sister,  jNIadam  Esmond,  was  called  Princess  Pocahontas 
in  her  own  country.  She  never  tired  in  her  praises  of 
mother  and  son,  of  their  riches  and  their  good  qualities. 
The  beau  shook  the  young  man  by  the  hand,  and  was 
delighted  to  have  the  honoiu'  to  make  his  acquaintance. 
The  ladies  praised  him  to  his  aunt  so  loudly  that  the 
modest  youth  was  fain  to  ])lush  at  their  com))limcnts. 
They  went  away  to  inform  tlie  Tunbiidge  society  of 
the  news  of  his  arrival.  The  little  ])lace  was  soon  buz- 
zing with  accounts  of  tlic  wealth,  the  good  breeding,  and 
the  g0f)d  looks  of  tlie  Virginian. 

"  You  could  not  liave  come  at  a  better  moment,  my 
dear,"  tlie  Baroness  said  to  lier  n(j)liew,  as  her  visitors 
dcpai-tcd  with  many  curtseys  and  congees.  "Tliose  three 
individuals  have  the  most  active  tongues  in  the  Wells. 


314  THE  VIRGINIANS 

They  will  trumpet  your  good  qualities  in  every  company 
where  they  go.  I  have  introduced  you  to  a  hundred  peo- 
ple already,  and,  heaven  help  me!  have  told  all  sorts  of 
fihs  about  the  geography  of  Virginia  in  order  to  describe 
your  estate.  It  is  a  prodigious  large  one,  but  I  am 
afraid  I  have  magnified  it.  I  have  filled  it  with  all  sorts 
of  wonderful  animals,  gold  mines,  spices ;  I  am  not  sure 
I  have  not  said  diamonds.  As  for  your  negroes,  I  have 
given  your  mother  armies  of  them ;  and,  in  fact,  repre- 
sented her  as  a  sovereign  princess  reigning  over  a  mag- 
nificent dominion.  So  she  has  a  magnificent  dominion: 
I  cannot  tell  to  a  few  hundred  thousand  pounds  how 
much  her  yearly  income  is,  but  I  have  no  doubt  it  is  a 
very  great  one.  And  you  must  prepare,  sir,  to  be  treated 
here  as  the  heir-apparent  of  this  royal  lady.  Do  not 
let  your  head  be  turned!  From  this  day  forth  you  are 
going  to  be  flattered  as  you  have  never  been  flattered  in 
your  life." 

"  And  to  what  end.  Ma'am?  "  asked  the  young  gentle- 
man. "  I  see  no  reason  why  I  should  be  reputed  so  rich, 
or  get  so  much  flattery." 

"  In  the  first  place,  sir,  you  must  not  contradict  j^our 
old  aunt,  who  has  no  desire  to  be  made  a  fool  of  before 
her  company.  And  as  for  your  reputation,  you  must 
know  we  found  it  here  almost  ready-made  on  our  arrival. 
A  London  newspaper  has  somehow  heard  of  you,  and 
come  out  with  a  stor}^  of  the  immense  wealth  of  a  young 
gentleman  from  Virginia  lately  landed,  and  a  cousin 
of  my  Lord  Castlewood.  Immensely  wealthy  you  are, 
and  can't  help  yourself.  All  the  world  is  eager  to  see 
you.  You  shall  go  to  church  to-morrow  morning,  and 
see  how  the  whole  congregation  will  turn  awa^^  from  its 
books  and  prayers,  to  worship  the  golden  calf  in  your 


THE  VIRGINIANS  315 

person.  You  would  not  have  had  me  undeceive  them, 
would  you,  and  speak  ill  of  mj^  own  flesh  and  blood?  " 

"  But  how  am  I  bettered  by  this  reputation  for 
money? "  asked  Harry. 

"  You  are  making  your  entry  into  the  world,  and  the 
gold  key  will  open  most  of  its  doors  to  you.  To  be 
thought  rich  is  as  good  as  to  be  rich.  You  need  not  spend 
much  money.  People  will  say  that  you  hoard  it,  and 
j^our  reputation  for  avarice  will  do  you  good  rather  than 
harm.  You'll  see  how  the  mothers  will  smile  upon  you, 
and  the  daughters  will  curtsey!  Don't  look  surprised! 
When  I  was  a  young  woman  myself  I  did  as  all  the  rest 
of  the  world  did,  and  tried  to  better  myself  by  more  than 
one  desperate  attempt  at  a  good  marriage.  Your  poor 
grandmother,  who  was  a  saint  upon  earth  to  be  sure,  bat- 
ing a  little  jealousy,  used  to  scold  me,  and  called  me 
worldly.  Worldly,  my  dear!  So  is  the  world  worldly; 
and  we  must  serve  it  as  it  serves  us ;  and  give  it  nothing 
for  nothing.  Mr.  Henry  Esmond  Warrington — I  can't 
help  loving  the  two  first  names,  sir,  old  woman  as  I  am, 
and  that  I  tell  you — on  coming  here  or  to  London,  would 
have  been  nobody.  Our  protection  would  have  helped 
him  but  little.  Our  family  has  little  credit,  and,  entre 
nous,  not  much  reputation.  I  suppose  you  know  that 
Castlewood  was  more  than  suspected  in  '45,  and  hath 
since  ruined  himself  by  play?  " 

Harry  had  never  heard  about  T^ord  Castlewood  or  his 
reputation. 

"  He  never  had  mucli  to  lose,  but  lie  has  lost  that  and 
more:  his  wretched  estate  is  eaten  up  with  mortgages. 
He  has  been  at  all  sorts  of  schemes  to  raise  money: — 
my  dear,  he  has  been  so  desperate  at  times,  that  I  did 
not  think  my  diamonds  were  safe  with  liim;   and  have 


316  THE  VIRGINIANS 

travelled  to  and  from  Castlewood  without  them.  Terri- 
ble, isn't  it,  to  speak  so  of  one's  own  nephew?  But  you 
are  my  nephew,  too,  and  not  spoiled  by  the  world  yet,  and 
I  wish  to  warn  you  of  its  wickedness.  I  heard  of  your 
play-doings  with  Will  and  the  chaplain,  but  they  could 
do  you  no  harm,— nay,  I  am  told  you  had  the  better  of 
them.  Had  you  played  with  Castlewood,  you  would 
have  had  no  such  luck :  and  you  would  have  played,  had 
not  an  old  aunt  of  yours  warned  my  Lord  Castlewood 
to  keep  his  hands  off  you."  | 

"What,  Ma'am,  did  you  interfere  to  preserve  me?" 
"  I  kept  his  clutches  off  from  you :  be  thankful  that 
you  are  come  out  of  that  ogre's  den  with  any  flesh  on 
your  bones !  My  dear,  it  has  been  the  rage  and  passion 
of  all  our  family.  My  poor  silly  brother  played;  both 
his  wives  played,  especially  the  last  one,  who  has  little 
else  to  live  upon  now  but  her  nightly  assemblies  in  Lon- 
don, and  the  money  for  the  cards.  I  would  not  trust  her 
at  Castlewood  alone  with  you:  the  passion  is  too  strong 
for  them,  and  they  would  fall  upon  you,  and  fleece  you ; 
and  then  fall  upon  each  other,  and  fight  for  the  plunder. 
But  for  his  place  about  the  Court  my  poor  nephew  hath 
nothing,  and  that  is  Will's  fortune,  too,  sir,  and  Maria's 
and  her  sister's." 

"  And  are  they,  too,  fond  of  the  cards?  " 
"No;  to  do  poor  Molly  justice,  gaming  is  not  her 
passion ;  but  when  she  is  amongst  them  in  London,  little 
Fanny  will  bet  her  eyes  out  of  her  head.  I  know  what 
the  passion  is,  sir:  do  not  look  so  astonished;  I  have 
had  it,  as  I  had  the  measles  when  I  was  a  child.  I  am 
not  cured  quite.  For  a  poor  old  woman  is  nothing  left 
but  that.  You  will  see  some  high  play  at  my  card-tables 
to-night.    Hush!   my  dear.    It  was  that  I  wanted,  and 


THE  VIRGINIANS  317 

without  which  I  moped  so  at  Castlewood!  I  could  not 
win  of  my  nieces  or  their  mother.  They  would  not  pay 
if  the}^  lost.  'Tis  best  to  warn  you,  my  dear,  in  time, 
lest  3^ou  should  be  shocked  by  the  discovery.  I  can't  live 
without  the  cards,  there's  the  truth." 

A  few  daj's  before,  and  while  staying  with  his  Castle- 
wood relatives,  Harry,  who  loved  cards,  and  cock-fight- 
ing, and  betting,  and  everj^  conceivable  sport  himself, 
would  have  laughed  very  likely  at  this  confession. 
Amongst  that  family  into  whose  society  he  had  fallen, 
manj^  things  were  laughed  at,  over  which  some  folks 
looked  grave.  Faith  and  honour  were  laughed  at ;  pure 
lives  were  disbelieved ;  selfishness  was  proclaimed  as  com- 
mon practice;  sacred  duties  were  sneeringly  spoken  of, 
and  vice  flippantly  condoned.  These  were  no  Pharisees : 
they  professed  no  hypocrisy  of  virtue,  they  flung  no 
stones  at  discovered  sinners:  —  they  smiled,  shrugged 
their  shoulders,  and  passed  on.  The  members  of  this 
family  did  not  pretend  to  be  a  whit  better  than  their 
neighbours,  whom  they  despised  heartily;  they  lived 
quite  familiarly  with  the  folks  about  whom  and  whose 
wives  they  told  such  wicked,  funny  stories;  they  took 
their  sliare  of  what  pleasure  or  plunder  came  to  hand, 
and  lived  from  da}'  to  day  till  their  last  da}"^  came  for 
them.  Of  course  there  are  no  such  people  now;  and 
human  nature  is  very  much  changed  in  the  last  hun- 
dred years.  At  any  rate,  card-playing  is  greatly  out  of 
mode:  about  that  there  can  be  no  doubt;  and  very 
likely  there  are  not  six  ladies  of  fashion  in  I^ondon,  who 
know  the  difference  ])etween  Sj)a(lill('  and  IMnnille. 

"  How  dreadfully  dull  you  must  have  found  those 
humdrum  people  at  that  village  where  we  left  you — 
but  the  savages  were  very  kind  to  you,  child!"  said 


318  THE  VIRGINIANS 

]Madame  de  Bernstein,  patting  the  young  man's  cheek 
with  her  pretty  old  hand. 

"  They  were  very  kind;  and  it  was  not  at  all  dull, 
Ma'am,  and  I  think  they  are  some  of  the  best  people  in 
the  world,"  said  Harry,  with  his  face  flushing  up.  His 
aunt's  tone  jarred  upon  him.  He  could  not  bear  that 
any  one  should  speak  or  think  lightly  of  the  new  friends 
whom  he  had  found.  He  did  not  want  them  in  such  com- 
pany. 

The  old  lady,  imperious  and  prompt  to  anger,  was 
about  to  resent  the  check  she  had  received,  but  a  sec- 
ond thought  made  her  pause.  "  Those  two  girls," 
she  thought,  "  a  sick-bed — an  interesting  stranger — of 
course  he  has  been  falling  in  love  with  one  of  them." 
Madame  Bernstein  looked  round  with  a  mischievous 
glance  at  Lady  Maria,  who  entered  the  room  at  this 
juncture. 


I 


CHAPTER  XXV 


NEW   ACQUAINTANCES 

OUSIN  MARIA  made 
her  appearance,  at- 
tended by  a  couple  of 
gardener's  boys  bear- 
ing baskets  of  flowers, 
with  which  it  was  pro- 
posed to  decorate  Ma- 
dame de  Bernstein's 
drawing-room  against 
the  arrival  of  her 
ladyship's  company. 
Three  footmen  in  liv- 
ery, gorgeously  laced 
with  worsted,  set  out 
twice  as  many  card- 
tables.  A  major- 
domo  in  black  and  a  bag,  with  fine  laced  ruffles,  and  look- 
ing as  if  he  ought  to  have  a  sword  by  his  side,  followed 
the  lacqueys  bearing  fasces  of  wax-candles,  of  which  he 
placed  a  j)air  on  each  card-table,  and  in  the  silver  sconces 
on  the  wainscoted  wall  that  was  now  gilt  with  the  slant- 
ing rays  of  the  sun,  as  was  the  prospect  of  the  green 
common  beyond,  with  its  rocks  and  clumps  of  trees  and 
houses  twinkling  in  the  sunshine.  Groups  of  many- 
coloured  figures  in  hoops  and  powder  and  brocade  saun- 
tered over  the  green,  and  da])pled  the  plain  with  their 

319 


320  THE  VIRGINIANS 

shadows.  On  tlie  other  side  from  the  Baroness's  windows 
yon  saw  the  Pantiles,  where  a  perpetual  fair  was  held, 
and  heard  the  clatter  and  huzzing  of  the  company.  A 
band  of  music  was  here  ]3erforming  for  the  benefit  of  the 
visitors  to  the  Wells.  ^Madame  Bernstein's  chief  sitting- 
room  might  not  suit  a  recluse  or  a  student,  but  for  those 
who  liked  bustle,  gaiety,  a  bright  cross  light,  and  a  view 
of  all  that  was  going  on  in  the  cheery  busy  place,  no  lodg- 
ing could  be  pleasanter.  And  when  the  windows  were 
lighted  up,  the  passengers  walking  below  were  aware 
that  her  ladj^ship  was  at  home  and  holding  a  card-assem- 
bly, to  which  an  introduction  was  easy  enough.  By  the 
way,  in  speaking  of  the  past,  I  think  the  night-life  of 
society  a  hundred  years  since  was  rather  a  dark  life. 
There  was  not  one  wax-candle  for  ten  which  we  now  see 
in  a  lady's  drawing-room:  let  alone  gas  and  the  won- 
drous new  illuminations  of  clubs.  Horrible  guttering 
tallow  smoked  and  stunk  in  passages.  The  candle-snuf- 
fer was  a  notorious  officer  in  the  theatre.  See  Hogarth's 
pictures:  how  dark  they  are,  and  how  his  feasts  are,  as 
it  were,  begrimed  with  tallow !  In  "  Marriage  a  la 
Mode,"  in  Lord  Viscount  Squanderfield's  grand  saloons, 
where  he  and  his  wife  are  sitting  j^awning  before  the 
horror-stricken  steward  when  their  party  is  over— there 
are  but  eight  candles— one  on  each  card-table,  and  half- 
a-dozen  in  a  brass  chandelier.  If  Jack  Briefless  con- 
voked his  friends  to  oysters  and  beer  in  his  chambers, 
Pump  Court,  he  would  have  twice  as  many.  Let  us  com- 
fort ourselves  by  thinking  that  Louis  Quatorze  in  all  his 
glory  held  his  revels  in  the  dark,  and  bless  Mr.  Price  and 
other  Luciferous  benefactors  of  mankind,  for  banishing 
the  abominable  mutton  of  our  youth. 

So  Maria  with  her  flowers  (herself  the  fairest  flower,) 


THE  VIRGINIANS  321 

popped  her  roses,  sweetwilliams,  and  so  forth,  in  vases 
here  and  there,  and  adorned  the  apartment  to  the  best 
of  her  art.  She  hngered  fondlj^  over  this  bowl  and  that 
dragon  jar,  casting  but  sly  timid  glances  the  while  at 
young  Cousin  Harry,  whose  own  blush  would  have  be- 
come any  young  woman,  and  you  might  have  thought 
that  she  possibly  intended  to  outsta}^  her  aunt ;  but  that 
Baroness,  seated  in  her  arm-chair,  her  crooked  tortoise- 
shell  stick  in  her  hand,  pointed  the  servants  imperiously 
to  their  duty ;  rated  one  and  the  other  soundly :  Tom  for 
having  a  darn  in  his  stocking;  John  for  having  greased 
his  locks  too  profusely  out  of  the  candle-box;  and  so 
forth — keeping  a  stern  domination  over  them.  Another 
remark  concerning  poor  Jeames  of  a  hundred  years  ago : 
Jeames  slept  two  in  a  bed,  four  in  a  room,  and  that  room 
a  cellar  very  likely,  and  he  washed  in  a  trough  such  as 
you  would  hardly  see  anywhere  in  London  now  out  of 
the  barracks  of  her  JNIajesty's  Foot  Guards. 

If  jNIaria  hoped  a  present  interview,  her  fond  heart 
was  disappointed.  "  Where  are  you  going  to  dine, 
Harrv?  "  asks  INIadame  de  Bernstein.  "  INIv  niece  JNIaria 
and  I  shall  have  a  cliicken  in  the  little  parlour — I  think 
you  shoidd  go  to  the  best  ordinar3\  There  is  one  at  the 
'  White  Horse  '  at  three,  we  shall  hear  his  bell  in  a  minute 
or  two.  And  you  will  understand,  sir,  that  you  ought 
not  to  spare  expense,  but  behave  like  Princess  Poca- 
hontas's son.  Your  trunks  have  been  taken  over  to  the 
lodging  J  liave  engaged  for  you.  It  is  not  good  for  a  lad 
to  be  always  liariging  about  the  aprons  of  two  old  women. 
Is  it,  Maria?" 

"  No,"  s'djH  her  ladysliij),  drnj)|)ing  Iier  meek  eyes: 
whilst  the  other  lady's  glared  in  triuni|)h.  1  think  vVn- 
dronieda  had  been  a  good  deal  exposed  to  the  Dragon 


322  THE  VIRGINIANS 

in  the  course  of  the  last  five  or  six  days :  and  if  Perseus 
had  cut  the  latter's  cruel  head  off  he  would  have  com- 
mitted not  unjustifiable  monstricide.  But  he  did  not 
bare  sword  or  shield ;  he  only  looked  mechanically  at  the 
lacqueys  in  tawny  and  blue  as  they  creaked  about  the 
room. 

"  And  there  are  good  mercers  and  tailors  from  London 
always  here  to  wait  on  the  company  at  the  Wells.  You 
had  better  see  them,  my  dear,  for  your  suit  is  not  of  the 
very  last  fashion — a  little  lace — " 

"  I  can't  go  out  of  mourning,  Ma'am,"  said  the  young 
man,  looking  down  at  his  sables. 

*'  Ho,  sir,"  cried  the  lady,  rustling  up  from  her  chair 
and  rising  on  her  cane,  "  wear  black  for  your  brother  till 
you  are  as  old  as  Methuselah,  if  you  like.  I  am  sure  I 
don't  want  to  prevent  you.  I  only  want  you  to  dress, 
and  to  do  like  other  people,  and  make  a  figure  worthy  of 
your  name." 

"  Madam,"  said  Mr.  Warrington  with  great  state,  "  I 
have  not  done  anything  to  disgrace  it  that  I  know." 

Why  did  the  old  woman  stop  and  give  a  little  start  as 
if  she  had  been  struck?  Let  bygones  be  bygones.  She 
and  the  boy  had  a  score  of  little  passages  of  this  kind  in 
which  swords  were  crossed  and  thrusts  rapidly  dealt  or 
parried.  She  liked  Harry  none  the  worse  for  his  courage 
in  facing  her.  "  Sure  a  little  finer  linen  than  that  shirt 
you  wear  will  not  be  a  disgrace  to  you,  sir,"  she  said,  with 
rather  a  forced  laugh. 

Harry  bowed  and  blushed.  It  was  one  of  the  homely 
gifts  of  his  Oakhurst  friends.  He  felt  pleased  somehow 
to  think  he  wore  it ;  thought  of  the  new  friends,  so  good, 
so  pure,  so  simple,  so  kindly,  with  immense  tenderness, 
and  felt,  while  invested  in  this  garment,  as  if  evil  could 


THE  VIRGINIANS  323 

not  touch  him.  He  said  he  would  go  to  his  lodging,  and 
make  a  point  of  returning  arrayed  in  the  best  linen  he 
had. 

"  Come  back  here,  sir,"  said  Madame  Bernstein,  "  and 
if  our  company  has  not  arrived,  Maria  and  I  will  find 
some  ruffles  for  you !  "  And  herewith,  under  a  footman's 
guidance,  the  young  fellow  walked  off  to  his  new  lodg- 
ings. 

Harrj^  found  not  only  handsome  and  spacious  apart- 
ments provided  for  him,  but  a  groom  in  attendance  wait- 
ing to  be  engaged  by  his  honour,  and  a  second  valet,  if 
he  was  inclined  to  hire  one  to  wait  upon  Mr.  Gumbo. 
Ere  he  had  been  many  minutes  in  his  rooms,  emissaries 
from  a  London  tailor  and  bootmaker  waited  on  him  with 
the  cards  and  compliments  of  their  employers,  IMessrs. 
Regnier  and  Tull ;  the  best  articles  in  his  modest  ward- 
robe were  laid  out  by  Gumbo,  and  the  finest  linen  with 
which  his  thrifty  Virginian  mother  had  provided  him. 
Visions  of  the  snow-surrounded  home  in  his  own  country, 
of  the  crackling  logs  and  the  trim  quiet  ladies  working 
by  the  fire,  rose  up  before  him.  For  the  first  time  a  little 
thought  that  the  homely  clothes  were  not  quite  smart 
enough,  the  home-worked  linen  not  so  fine  as  it  might  be, 
crossed  the  young  man's  mind.  That  he  should  be 
ashamed  of  anything  belonging  to  him  or  to  Castlewood! 
That  was  strange.  The  simple  folks  there  were  only 
too  well  satisfied  with  all  things  that  were  done  or  said 
or  produced  at  Castlewood ;  and  INIadam  Esmond,  when 
she  sent  her  son  fortli  on  liis  travels,  thouglit  no  young 
nobleman  need  be  better  provided.  The  clothes  might 
have  fitted  better  and  been  of  a  later  fasliion,  to  be  sure— 
but  still  the  young  fellow  presented  a  comely  figure 
enough  when  he  issued  from  his  apartments,  his  toilette 


324  THE  VIRGINIANS 

over;  and  Gumbo,  calling  a  chair,  marched  beside  it, 
until  they  reached  the  ordinary  where  the  young  gentle- 
man was  to  dine. 

Here  he  expected  to  find  the  beau  whose  acquaintance 
he  had  made  a  few  hours  before  at  his  aunt's  lodging, 
and  who  had  indicated  to  Harry  that  the  "  White 
Horse  "  was  the  most  modish  place  for  dining  at  the 
Wells,  and  he  mentioned  his  friend's  name  to  the  host: 
but  the  landlord  and  waiters  leading  him  into  the  room 
with  many  smiles  and  bows  assured  his  honour  that  his 
honour  did  not  need  any  other  introduction  than  his  own, 
helped  him  to  hang  up  his  coat  and  sword  on  a  peg, 
asked  him  whether  he  would  drink  Burgundy,  Pontac, 
or  Champagne  to  his  dinner,  and  led  him  to  a  table. 

Though  the  most  fashionable  ordinary  in  the  village, 
the  "  White  Horse  "  did  not  happen  to  be  crowded  on 
this  day.  Monsieur  Barbeau,  the  landlord,  informed 
Harry  that  there  was  a  great  entertainment  at  Summer 
Hill,  which  had  taken  away  most  of  the  company;  in- 
deed, when  Harry  entered  the  room,  there  were  but  four 
other  gentlemen  in  it.  Two  of  these  guests  were  drink- 
ing wine,  and  had  finished  their  dinner:  the  other  two 
were  young  men  in  the  midst  of  their  meal,  to  whom  the 
landlord,  as  he  passed,  must  have  whispered  the  name  of 
the  new  comer,  for  they  looked  at  him  with  some  appear- 
ance of  interest,  and  made  him  a  slight  bow  across  the 
table  as  the  smiling  host  bustled  away  for  Harry's  din- 
ner. 

Mr.  Warrington  returned  the  salute  of  the  two  gentle- 
men who  bade  him  welcome  to  Tunbridge,  and  hoped 
he  would  like  the  place  upon  better  acquaintance.  Then 
they  smiled  and  exchanged  waggish  looks  with  each 
other,  of  which  Harry  did  not  understand  the  meaning, 


>l^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS  325 

nor  why  thej^  cast  knowing  glances  at  the  two  other 
guests  over  their  wine. 

One  of  these  persons  was  in  a  somewhat  tarnished  vel- 
vet coat  with  a  huge  queue  and  bag,  and  voluminous 
ruffles  and  embroidery.  The  other  was  a  little  beetle- 
browed,  hook-nosed,  high-shouldered  gentleman,  whom 
his  opposite  companion  addressed  as  milor,  or  my  lord, 
in  a  very  high  voice.  My  lord,  who  was  sipping  the  wine 
before  him,  barely  glanced  at  the  new  comer,  and  then 
addressed  himself  to  his  own  companion. 

"  And  so  you  know  the  nephew  of  the  old  woman — 
the  Croesus  who  comes  to  arrive?  " 

"You're  thrown  out  there,  Jack!"  says  one  young 
gentleman  to  the  other. 

"  Never  could  manage  the  lingo,"  said  Jack.  The  two 
elders  had  begun  to  speak  in  the  French  language. 

"  But  assuredly,  my  dear  lord!  "  says  the  gentleman 
with  the  long  queue. 

"  You  have  shown  energy,  my  dear  Baron!  He  has 
been  here  but  two  hours.  My  people  told  me  of  him 
only  as  I  came  to  dinner." 

"  I  knew  him  before! — I  have  met  him  often  in  Lon- 
don with  the  Baroness  and  my  lord,  his  cousin,"  said  the 
Baron. 

A  smoking  soup  for  Harry  here  came  in,  borne  by  the 
smiling  host.  "  Behold,  sir!  Behold  a  potage  of  my 
fashion!  "  says  my  landlord,  laying  down  the  dish  and 
whispering  to  Harry  the  celebrated  name  of  the  noble- 
man opposite.  Plarry  thanked  Monsieur  Barbeau  in  his 
own  language,  upon  which  the  foreign  gentleman,  turn- 
ing round,  grinned  most  graciously  at  Harry,  and  said, 
"  Fous  bossedez  notre  langue  barfaidement,  Monsieur." 
Mr.  Warrington  had  never  heard  the  French  language 


.32G  THE  VIRGINIANS 

pronounced  in  that  manner  in  Canada.  He  bowed  in 
return  to  the  foreign  gentleman. 

"  Tell  me  more  about  the  Croesus,  my  good  Baron," 
continued  his  lordship,  speaking  rather  superciliously  to 
his  companion,  and  taking  no  notice  of  Harry,  which 
perhaps  somewhat  nettled  the  young  man. 

"What  will  j^ou,  that  I  tell  you,  my  dear  lord?  Croesus 
is  a  youth  like  other  j^ouths ;  he  is  tall,  like  other  youths ; 
he  is  awkward,  like  other  youths;  he  has  black  hair,  as 
they  all  have  who  come  from  the  Indies.  Lodgings  have 
been  taken  for  him  at  Mrs.  Rose's  toy-shop." 

"  I  have  lodgings  there  too,"  thought  Mr.  Warring- 
ton. "  Who  is  Croesus  they  are  talking  of?  How  good 
the  soup  is! " 

"  He  travels  with  a  large  retinue,"  the  Baron  con- 
tinued, "  four  servants,  two  postchaises,  and  a  pair  of 
outriders.  His  chief  attendant  is  a  black  man  who  saved 
his  life  from  the  savages  in  America,  and  who  will  not 
hear,  on  any  account,  of  being  made  free.  He  persists 
in  wearing  mourning  for  his  elder  brother  from  whom 
he  inherits  his  principality." 

"  Could  anything  console  you  for  the  death  of  yours, 
Chevalier? "  cried  out  the  elder  gentleman. 

"  Milor!  his  property  might,"  said  the  Chevalier, 
"  which  you  know  is  not  small." 

"  Your  brother  lives  on  his  patrimony— which  you 
have  told  me  is  immense — you  by  your  industry,  my  dear 
Chevalier." 

"  Milor!  "  cries  the  individual  addressed  as  Chevalier. 

"  By  your  industry  or  your  esprit, — how  much  more 
noble!  Shall  you  be  at  the  Baroness's  to-night?  She 
ought  to  be  a  little  of  your  parents,  Chevalier?  " 


THE  VIRGINIANS  327 

"  Again  I  fail  to  comprehend  your  lordship,"  said  the 
other  gentleman,  rather  sulkily. 

"  Why,  she  is  a  woman  of  great  wit — she  is  of  noble 
birth — she  has  undergone  strange  adventures — she  has 
but  little  principle  (there  you  happily  have  the  advan- 
tage of  her) .  But  what  care  we  men  of  the  world ?  You 
intend  to  go  and  play  with  the  young  Creole,  no  doubt, 
and  get  as  much  money  from  him  as  you  can.  By  the 
way,  Baron,  suppose  he  should  be  a  ^uet  a  pens,  that 
young  Creole?  Suppose  our  excellent  friend  has  in- 
vented him  up  in  London,  and  brings  him  down  with  his 
character  for  wealth  to  prey  upon  the  innocent  folks 
here?" 

"  J'y  ai  souvent  pense,  Milor,"  says  the  little  Baron, 
placing  his  finger  to  his  nose  very  knowingly,  "  that 
Baroness  is  capable  of  anything." 

"  A  Baron— a  Baroness,  que  voulez-vous,  my  friend? 
I  mean  the  late  lamented  husband.  Do  you  know  who 
he  was? " 

"  Intimately.  A  more  notorious  villain  never  dealt 
a  card.  At  Venice,  at  Brussels,  at  Spa,  at  Vienna— the 
gaols  of  every  one  of  which  places  he  knew.  I  knew  the 
man,  my  lord." 

"  I  thought  you  would.  I  saw  him  at  the  Hague, 
where  I  first  had  the  honour  of  meeting  you,  and  a  more 
disreputable  rogue  never  entered  my  doors.  A  Minis- 
ter must  open  them  to  all  sorts  of  people.  Baron,— spies, 
sharpers,  ruffians  of  every  sort." 

"  Parbleu,  Milor,  how  you  treat  them!"  says  my 
lord's  companion. 

"  A  man  of  my  rank,  my  friend— of  the  rank  I  held 
then— of  course,  must  see  all  sorts  of  people— entre 


328  THE  VIRGINIANS 

autres  your  acquaintance.  What  his  wife  could  want 
with  such  a  name  as  his  I  can't  conceive." 

"  Apparently,  it  was  better  than  the  lady's  own." 

"  Effectively!  So  I  have  heard  of  my  friend  Paddy 
changing  clothes  with  the  scarecrow.  I  don't  know  which 
name  is  the  most  distinguished,  that  of  the  English 
bishop  or  the  German  baron." 

"  My  lord,"  cried  the  other  gentleman,  rising  and  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  a  large  star  on  his  coat,  "  you  forget 
that  I,  too,  am  a  Baron  and  a  Chevalier  of  the  Holy 
Roman — " 

"  —  Order  of  the  Spur!— not  in  the  least,  my  dear 
knight  and  baron!  You  will  have  no  more  wine?  We 
shall  meet  at  Madame  de  Bernstein's  to-night."  The 
knight  and  baron  quitted  the  table,  felt  in  his  embroid- 
ered pockets,  as  if  for  money  to  give  the  waiter,  who 
brought  him  his  great  laced  hat,  and  waving  that  menial 
off  with  a  hand  surrounded  b}^  large  ruffles  and  blazing 
rings,  he  stalked  away  from  the  room. 

It  was  only  when  the  person  addressed  as  my  lord  had 
begun  to  speak  of  the  bishop's  widow  and  the  German 
baron's  wife  that  Harry  Warrington  was  aware  how  his 
aunt  and  himself  had  been  the  subject  of  the  two  gentle- 
men's conversation.  Ere  the  conviction  had  settled  itself 
on  his  mind,  one  of  the  speakers  had  quitted  the  room, 
and  the  other  turning  to  a  table  at  which  two  gentlemen 
sat,  said,  "  What  a  little  sharper  it  is !  Everything  I 
said  about  Bernstein  relates  mutato  nomine  to  him.  I 
knew  the  fellow  to  be  a  sp}'-  and  a  rogue.  He  has  changed 
his  religion  I  don't  know  how  many  times.  I  had  him 
turned  out  of  the  Hague  myself  when  I  was  ambassador, 
and  I  know  he  was  caned  in  Vienna." 

"  I  wonder  my  Lord  Chesterfield  associates  with  such 


•-9. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  329 

a  villain! "  called  out  Harry  from  his  table.  The  other 
couple  of  diners  looked  at  him.  To  his  surprise  the 
nobleman  so  addressed  went  on  talking. 

"  There  cannot  be  a  more  fieffe  coquin  than  this  Poell- 
nitz.  Why,  heaven  be  thanked,  he  has  actually  left 
me  my  snuiF-box!  You  laugh?— the  fellow  is  capable 
of  taking  it."  And  my  lord  thought  it  was  his  own  satire 
at  which  the  young  men  were  laughing. 

"  You  are  quite  right,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  two  diners, 
turning  to  INIr.  Warrington,  "  though,  saving  your  pres- 
ence, I  don't  know  what  business  it  is  of  yours.  My  lord 
will  play  with  anybody  who  will  set  him.  Don't  be 
alarmed,  he  is  as  deaf  as  a  post,  and  did  not  hear  a 
word  that  you  said;  and  that's  why  my  lord  will  play 
with  anybody  who  will  put  a  pack  of  cards  before 
him,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  he  consorts  with  this 
rogue. 

"  Faith,  I  know  other  noblemen  who  are  not  particu- 
lar as  to  their  company,"  says  Mr.  Jack. 

"  Do  you  mean  because  I  associate  with  you?  I  know 
my  company,  my  good  friend,  and  I  defy  most  men  to 
have  the  better  of  me." 

Not  having  paid  the  least  attention  to  Mr.  Warring- 
ton's angry  interruption,  my  lord  opposite  was  talking 
in  his  favourite  French  with  Monsieur  Barbeau,  the 
landlord,  and  graciously  complimenting  him  on  his  din- 
ner. The  host  bowed  again  and  again;  was  enchanted 
that  his  Excellency  was  satisfied:  had  not  forgotten  the 
art  which  he  had  learned  when  he  was  a  young  man  in  his 
Excellency's  kingdom  of  Ireland.  The  salmi  was  to 
my  lord's  liking?  He  liad  just  served  a  dish  to  the  young 
American  seigneur  who  sat  oilposite,  the  gentleman 
from  Virginia. 


330  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  To  ichom?  "  JNIy  lord's  pale  face  became  red  for  a 
moment,  as  he  asked  this  question,  and  looked  towards 
Harry  Warrington,  opposite  to  him. 

"  To  the  young  gentleman  from  Virginia  who  has 
just  arrived,  and  who  perfectly  possesses  our  beautiful 
language!"  says  ]Mr.  Earbeau,  thinking  to  kill  two 
bh'ds,  as  it  were,  with  this  one  stone  of  a  compliment. 

"  And  to  whom  your  lordship  will  be  answerable  for 
language  reflecting  upon  my  family,  and  uttered  in  the 
presence  of  these  gentlemen,"  cried  out  Mr.  Warring- 
ton, at  the  top  of  his  voice,  determined  that  his  opponent 
should  hear. 

"  You  must  go  and  call  into  his  ear,  and  then  he 
may  perchance  hear  you,"  said  one  of  the  younger 
guests. 

"  I  will  take  care  that  his  lordship  shall  understand 
my  meaning,  one  way  or  other,"  Mr.  Warrington  said, 
with  much  dignity:  "  and  will  not  suffer  calumnies  re- 
garding my  relatives  to  be  uttered  hy  him  or  any  other 
man! " 

Whilst  Harry  was  speaking,  the  little  nobleman  op- 
posite to  him  did  not  hear  him,  but  had  time  sufficient 
to  arrange  his  own  reply.  He  had  risen,  passing  his 
handkerchief  once  or  twice  across  his  mouth,  and  laying 
his  slim  fingers  on  the  table.  "  Sir,"  said  he,  "  you  will 
believe,  on  the  word  of  a  gentleman,  that  I  had  no  idea 
before  whom  I  was  speaking,  and  it  seems  that  my  ac- 
quaintance, Monsieur  de  Poellnitz,  knew  you  no  better 
than  myself.  Had  I  known  you,  believe  me  that  I  should 
have  been  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  utter  a  syllable 
that  should  give  you  annoyance;  and  I  tender  you  my 
regrets  and  apologies  before  my  Lord  March  and  Mr. 
Morris  here  present." 


THE   VIRGINIANS  331 

To  these  words,  Mr.  Warrington  could  only  make  a 
bow,  and  mumble  out  a  few  words  of  acknowledgment: 
which  speech  having  made  believe  to  hear,  my  lord  made 
"^  Harry  another  very  profound  bow,  and  saying  he  should 
have  the  honour  of  waiting  upon  Mr.  Warrington  at  his 
lodgings,  saluted  the  company,  and  went  away. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


IN    WHICH    WE   ARE   AT   A   VERY    GREAT   DISTANCE 

FROM    OAK  HURST 

ITHIN  the  precincts  of  the 
"  White  Horse  Tavern,"  and 
coming  up  to  the  windows  of 
the  eating-room,  was  a  bowl- 
ing-green, with  a  table  or  two, 
where  guests  might  sit  and 
jil  partake  of  punch  or  tea.  The 
''  three  gentlemen  having  come 
to  an  end  of  their  dinner  about 
the  same  time,  Mr.  Morris  pro- 
posed that  they  should  ad- 
journ to  the  Green,  and  there 
drink  a  cool  bottle.  "  Jack 
Morris  would  adjourn  to  the 
'  Dust  Hole,'  as  a  pretext  for 
a  fresh  drink,"  said  my  lord.  On  which  Jack  said  he 
supposed  each  gentleman  had  his  own  favourite  way  of 
going  to  the  deuce.  His  weakness,  he  owned,  was  a 
bottle. 

"  My  Lord  Chesterfield's  deuce  is  deuce-ace,"  says  my 
Lord  March.  "  His  lordship  can't  keep  away  from  the 
cards  or  dice." 

"  My  Lord  March  has  not  one  devil,  but  several  devils. 
He  loves  gambling,  he  loves  horse-racing,  he  loves  bet- 
ting, he  loves  drinking,  he  loves  eating,  he  loves  money, 

33? 


THE  VIRGINIANS  388 

he  loves  women ;  and  3^011  have  fallen  into  bad  company, 
]\Ir.  Warrington,  M-hen  you  lighted  upon  his  lordship. 
He  will  play  you  for  every  acre  you  have  in  Virginia." 
^^  "  With  the  greatest  pleasure  in  life,  Mr.  Warring- 
ton! "  interposes  my  lord. 

"  And  for  all  your  tobacco,  and  for  all  your  spices,  and 
for  all  your  slaves,  and  for  all  your  oxen  and  asses,  and 
for  everything  that  is  yours." 

"  Shall  we  begin  now.  Jack?  you  are  never  without  a 
dice-box  or  a  bottle-screw.  I  will  set  Mr.  Warrington 
for  what  he  likes." 

"  Unfortunately,  my  lord,  the  tobacco,  and  the  slaves, 
and  the  asses,  and  the  oxen,  are  not  mine,  as  yet.  I  am 
just  of  age,  and  my  mother,  scarce  twenty  years  older, 
has  quite  as  good  chance  of  long  life  as  I  have." 

"  I  will  bet  you  that  you  survive  her.  I  will  pay  you  a 
sum  now  against  four  times  the  sum  to  be  paid  at  her 
death.  I  will  set  you  a  fair  sum  over  this  table  against 
the  reversion  of  your  estate  in  Virginia  at  the  old  lady's 
departure.    What  do  you  call  your  place?  " 

"  Castlewood." 

"  A  principality,  I  hear  it  is.  I  will  bet  that  its  value 
has  been  exaggerated  ten  times  at  least  amongst  the  quid- 
nuncs here.  How  came  you  1)}^  the  name  of  Castlewood  ? 
— you  are  related  to  my  lord?  Oh,  stay:  I  know, — my 
lady,  your  mother,  descends  from  the  real  head  of  the 
house.  He  took  the  losing  side  in  '15.  I  have  had  the 
story  a  dozen  times  from  my  old  Duchess.  Slie  knew 
your  grandfather.  He  was  friend  of  Addison  and 
Steele,  and  Pope  and  Milton,  I  dare  say,  and  the 
bigwigs.  It  is  a  ])ity  he  did  not  stay  at  home,  and 
transport  the  other  branch  of  the  family  to  the  plan- 
tations." 


334  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  I  have  just  been  staying  at  Castlewood  with  my 
cousin  there,"  remarked  Mr.  Warrington. 

"H'm!  Did  you  play  with  him?  He's  fond  of  paste- 
board and  bones." 

"  Never  but  for  sixpences  and  a  pool  of  commerce 
with  the  ladies." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  both  of  you.  But  you  played 
with  Will  Esmond  if  he  was  at  home?  I  will  lay  ten  to 
one  you  played  with  Will  Esmond." 

Harry  blushed,  and  owned  that  of  an  evening  his 
cousin  and  he  had  had  a  few  games  at  cards." 

"  And  Tom  Sampson,  the  chaplain,"  cried  Jack  Mor- 
ris, "  was  he  of  the  party?  I  wager  that  Tom  made  a 
third,  and  the  Lord  deliver  you  from  Tom  and  Will 
Esmond  together!  " 

"  Nay.  The  truth  is,  I  won  of  both  of  them,"  said  Mr. 
Warrington. 

"  And  they  paid  you?  Well,  miracles  will  never 
cease!" 

"  I  did  not  say  anything  about  miracles,"  remarked 
Mr.  Harry,  smiling  over  his  wine. 

"  And  you  don't  tell  tales  out  of  school — and  so  much 
the  better,  Mr.  Warrington?  "  says  my  lord. 

"  If  Mr.  Warrington  has  been  to  school  to  Lord  Cas- 
tlewood and  Will  Esmond,  your  tutors  must  have  cost 
you  a  pretty  penny,  mustn't  they,  March?  " 

*'  Must  they,  Morris?  "  said  my  lord,  as  if  he  only  half 
liked  the  other's  familiarity. 

Both  of  the  two  gentlemen  were  dressed  alike,  in  small 
scratch-wigs  without  powder,  in  blue  frocks  with  plate 
buttons,  in  buckskins  and  riding-boots,  in  little  hats  with 
a  narrow  cord  of  lace,  and  no  outward  mark  of  fashion. 

"  I  don't  care  for  indoor  games  much,  my  lord,"  says 


•^ 


THE   VIRGINIANS  335 

Harry,  warming  with  his  wine;  "but  I  should  like  to 
go  to  Newmarket,  and  long  to  see  a  good  English  hunt- 
ing-field." 

"  We  will  show  you  Newmarket  and  the  hunting-field, 
sir.    Can  you  ride  pretty  well?  " 

"  I  think  I  can,"  Harry  said;  "  and  I  can  shoot  pretty 
well,  and  jump  some." 

"  What's  your  weight  ?  I  bet  you  we  weigh  even,  or 
I  weigh  most.  I  bet  you  Jack  Morris  beats  you  at 
birds  or  a  mark,  at  five-and-twenty  paces.  I  bet  you 
I  jump  farther  than  you  on  flat  ground,  here  on  this 
green." 

"  I  don't  know  Mr.  Morris's  shooting — I  never  saw 
either  gentleman  before — but  I  take  your  bets,  my  lord, 
at  what  you  please,"  cries  Harry,  who  by  this  time  was 
more  than  warm  with  Burgundy. 

"  Ponies  on  each !  "  cried  my  lord. 

"  Done  and  done!  "  cried  my  lord  and  Harry  together. 
The  young  man  thought  it  was  for  the  honour  of  his 
country  not  to  be  ashamed  of  any  bet  made  to  him. 

"  We  can  try  the  last  bet  now,  if  your  feet  are  pretty 
steady,"  said  my  lord,  springing  up,  stretching  his  arms 
and  limbs,  and  looking  at  the  crisp  dry  grass.  He  drew 
his  boots  off,  then  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  buckling  his  belt 
round  his  waist,  and  flinging  his  clothes  down  to  the 
ground. 

Harry  had  more  respect  for  his  garments.  It  was  his 
best  suit.  He  took  off"  the  velvet  coat  and  waistcoat, 
folded  them  up  daintily,  and,  as  the  two  or  three  tables 
round  were  slopped  with  drink,  went  to  place  the  clothes 
on  a  table  in  the  eating-room,  of  which  the  windows  were 
open. 

Here  a  new  guest  had  entered ;  and  this  was  no  other 


336  THE   VIRGINIANS 

than  Mr.  Wolfe,  who  was  soberly  eating  a  chicken  and 
salad,  with  a  modest  pint  of  wine.  Harry  was  in  high 
spirits.  He  told  the  Colonel  he  had  a  bet  with  my  Lord 
JNIarch — would  Colonel  Wolfe  stand  him  halves?  The 
Colonel  said  he  was  too  poor  to  bet.  Would  he  come  out 
and  see  fair  play?  That  he  would  with  all  his  heart. 
Colonel  Wolfe  set  down  his  glass,  and  stalked  through 
the  open  window  after  his  young  friend. 

"  Who  is  that  tallow-faced  Put  with  the  carroty  hair?  " 
says  Jack  Morris,  on  whom  the  Burgundy  had  had  its 
due  effect. 

Mr.  Warrington  explained  that  this  was  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Wolfe,  of  the  20th  Regiment. 

"  Your  humble  servant,  gentlemen!"  says  the  Colonel, 
making  the  company  a  rigid  military  bow. 

"  Never  saw  such  a  figure  in  my  life!  "  cries  Jack  Mor- 
ris.   "Didyou-March?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  think  you  said  March?  "  said 
the  Colonel,  looking  very  much  surprised. 

"  I  am  the  Earl  of  March,  sir,  at  Colonel  Wolfe's  ser- 
vice," said  the  nobleman,  bowing.  "  My  friend,  Mr. 
Morris,  is  so  intimate  with  me,  that,  after  dinner,  we  are 
quite  like  brothers." 

"  Why  is  not  all  Tunbridge  Wells  by  to  hear  this? " 
thought  Morris.  And  he  was  so  delighted  that  he  shouted 
out,  "  Two  to  one  on  my  lord!  " 

"  Done!  "  calls  out  Mr.  Warrington;  and  the  enthusi- 
astic Jack  was  obliged  to  cry  "  Done!  "  too. 

"  Take  him,  Colonel,"  Harry  whispers  to  his  friend. 

But  the  Colonel  said  he  could  not  afford  to  lose,  and 
therefore  could  not  hope  to  win. 

"  I  see  you  have  won  one  of  our  bets  already,  Mr. 
Warrington,"  my  Lord  March  remarked.    *'  I  am  taller 


•^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS  337 

than  you  by  an  inch  or  two,  but  you  are  broader  round 
the  shoulders." 

"  Pooh,  my  dear  Will!  I  bet  you  you  weigh  twice  as 
much  as  he  does!  "  cries  Jack  Morris. 

"  Done,  Jack!  "  says  my  lord,  laughing.  "  The  bets 
are  all  ponies.    Will  you  take  him,  Mr.  Warrington?  " 

"  No,  my  dear  fellow— one's  enough,"  says  Jack. 

"  Very  good,  my  dear  fellow,"  says  my  lord;  "  and 
now  we  will  settle  the  other  wager." 

Having  already  arrayed  himself  in  his  best  silk  stock- 
ings, black  satin-net  breeches,  and  neatest  pumps,  Harry 
did  not  care  to  take  off  his  shoes  as  his  antagonist  had 
done,  whose  heavy  riding-boots  and  spurs  were,  to  be 
sure,  little  calculated  for  leaping.  They  had  before  them 
a  fine  even  green  turf  of  some  thirty  yards  in  length, 
enough  for  a  run  and  enough  for  a  jump.  A  gravel- 
walk  ran  around  this  green,  beyond  which  was  a  wall  and 
gate-sign — a  field  azure,  bearing  the  Hanoverian  White 
Horse  rampant  between  two  skittles  proper,  and  for 
motto  the  name  of  the  landlord  and  of  the  animal  de- 
picted. 

My  lord's  friend  laid  a  handkerchief  on  the  ground 
as  the  mark  whence  the  leapers  were  to  take  their  jump, 
and  ]\Ir.  Wolfe  stood  at  the  other  end  of  the  grass-plat 
to  note  the  spot  where  each  came  down.  "  My  lord  went 
first,"  writes  Mr.  Warrington,  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  INIoun- 
tain,  at  Castlewood,  Virginia,  still  extant.  "  He  was 
for  having  me  take  the  lead;  but,  remembering  the 
story  about  '  the  Battel  of  Fontanoy  '  whicli  my  dearest 
George  used  to  tell,  I  says,  'Monseigneur  le  Comte,  tirez 
le  premier,  s'il  vous  ])lay.'  So  he  took  his  run  in  his 
stocken-feet,  and  for  the  lionour  of  Old  Virginia,  I  had 
the  gratafacation  of  beating  his  lordship  by  more  than 


338  THE   VIRGINIANS 

two  feet— viz.,  two  feet  nine  inches— me  jumping 
twenty-one  feet  three  inches,  by  the  drawer's  measured 
tape,  and  his  lordship  only  eighteen  six.  I  had  won  from 
him  about  my  weight  before  ( which  I  knew  the  moment 
I  set  my  eye  upon  him) .  So  he  and  Mr.  Jack  paid  me 
these  two  hetts.  And  with  my  best  duty  to  my  mother — 
she  will  not  be  displeased  with  me,  for  I  bett  for  the  lion- 
our  of  the  Old  Dominion,  and  my  opponent  was  a  noble- 
man of  the  first  quality,  himself  holding  two  Erldoines, 
and  heir  to  a  Duke.  Betting  is  all  the  rage  here,  and  the 
bloods  and  young  fellows  of  fashion  are  betting  away 
from  morning  till  night. 

"  I  told  them — and  that  was  my  mischief  perhaps — 
that  there  was  a  gentleman  at  home  who  could  beat  me 
by  a  good  foot;  and  when  they  asked  who  it  was,  and  I 
said  Col.  G.  Washington,  of  Mount  Vernon — as  you 
know  he  can,  and  he's  the  only  man  in  his  county  or  mine 
that  can  do  it — Mr.  Wolfe  asked  me  ever  so  many  ques- 
tions about  Col.  G.  W.,  and  showed  that  he  had  heard 
of  him,  and  talked  over  last  year's  unhappy  campane  as 
if  he  knew  every  inch  of  the  ground,  and  he  knew  the 
names  of  all  our  rivers,  only  he  called  the  Potowmac 
Pottamac,  at  which  we  had  a  good  laugh  at  him.  Mj' 
Lord  of  March  and  Ruglen  was  not  in  the  least  ill- 
humour  about  losing,  and  he  and  his  friend  handed  me 
notes  out  of  their  pocket-books,  which  filled  mine  that 
was  getting  very  emjjty,  for  the  vales  to  the  servants 
at  my  Cousin  Castlewood's  house  and  buying  a  horse  at 
Oakhurst  have  very  nearly  put  me  on  the  necessity  of 
making  another  draft  upon  my  honoured  mother  or  her 
London  or  Bristol  agent." 

These  feats  of  activity  over,  the  four  gentlemen  now 
strolled  out  of  the  tavern  garden  into  the  public  walk, 


THE  VIRGINIANS  339 

where,  by  this  time,  a  great  deal  of  company  was  as- 
sembled :  upon  whom  Mr.  Jack,  who  was  of  a  frank  and 
.free  nature,  with  a  loud  voice,  chose  to  make  .remarks 
that  were  not  always  agreeable.  And  here,  if  my  Lord 
^larch  made  a  joke,  of  which  his  lordship  was  not  spar- 
ing. Jack  roared,  "  Oh,  ho,  ho !  Oh,  good  Gad!  Oh,  my 
dear  earl !  Oh,  my  dear  lord,  you'll  be  the  death  of  me !  " 
"  It  seemed  as  if  he  wished  everybody  to  know,"  writes 
Harry  sagaciously  to  Mrs.  Mountain,  "  that  his  friend 
and  companion  was  an  Erl! " 

There  was,  indeed,  a  great  variety  of  characters  who 
passed.  M.  Poellnitz,  no  finer  dressed  than  he  had 
been  at  dinner,  grinned,  and  saluted  with  his  great 
laced  hat  and  tarnished  feathers.  Then  came  by  my 
Lord  Chesterfield,  in  a  pearl-coloured  suit,  with  his 
blue-ribbon  and  star,  and  saluted  the  young  men  in  his 
turn. 

"  I  will  back  the  old  boy  for  taking  his  hat  off  against 
the  whole  kingdom,  and  France,  either,"  says  my  Lord 
March.  "  He  has  never  changed  the  shape  of  that  hat 
of  his  for  twenty  years.  Look  at  it.  There  it  goes 
again!  Do  you  see  that  great  big  awkward  pock- 
marked, snuff-coloured  man,  who  hardly  touches  his 
clumsy  beaver  in  reply.  D —  his  confounded  impudence 
— do  you  know  who  that  is?  " 

"  No,  curse  him!  Who  is  it,  March?  "  asks  Jack,  with 
an  oath. 

"  It's  one  Johnson,  a  Dictionary-maker,  about  whom 
my  Lord  Chesterfield  wrote  some  most  capital  papers, 
when  his  dictionary  was  coming  out,  to  patronize  the  fel- 
low. I  know  they  were  ca])ital.  I've  heard  Horry  Wal- 
pole  say  so,  and  he  knows  all  about  tliat  kind  of  thing. 
Confound  the  impudent  schoolmaster!  " 


340  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  Hang  Iiim,  he  ought  to  stand  in  the  pillory  I  "  roars 
Jack. 

"  That  fat  man  he's  walking  with  is  another  of  your 
writing  fellows,— a  printer,— his  name  is  Richardson;  he 
wrote  '  Clarissa,'  you  know." 

"  Great  heavens!  my  lord,  is  that  the  great  Richard- 
son? Is  that  the  man  who  wrote  '  Clarissa? '  "  called  out 
Colonel  Wolfe  and  Mr.  Warrington,  in  a  breath. 

Harry  ran  forward  to  look  at  the  old  gentleman  tod- 
dling along  the  walk  with  a  train  of  admiring  ladies  sur- 
rounding him. 

"  Indeed,  my  very  dear  sir,"  one  was  saying,  "  you 
are  too  great  and  good  to  live  in  such  a  world ;  but  sure 
you  were  sent  to  teach  it  virtue! " 

"  Ah,  my  Miss  Mulso !  Who  shall  teach  the  teacher?  " 
said  the  good,  fat  old  man,  raising  a  kind  round  face 
skywards.  "  Even  he  has  his  faults  and  errors!  Even 
his  age  and  experience  does  not  prevent  him  from 
stumbl —  Heaven  bless  my  soul,  JNIr.  Johnson!  I  ask 
your  pardon  if  I  have  trodden  on  your  corn." 

"  You  have  done  both,  sir.  You  haA^e  trodden  on  the 
corn,  and  received  the  pardon,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  and 
went  on  mumbling  some  verses,  swaying  to  and  fro,  his 
eyes  turned  towards  the  ground,  his  hands  behind  him, 
and  occasionally  endangering  with  his  great  stick  the 
honest,  meek  eyes  of  his  companion  author. 

"  They  do  not  see  very  well,  my  dear  Mulso,"  he  says 
to  the  young  lady,  "  but  such  as  they  are,  I  would  keep 
my  lash  from  Mr.  Johnson's  cudgel.  Your  servant,  sir." 
Here  he  made  a  low  bow,  and  took  off  his  hat  to  Mr. 
Warrington,  who  shrank  back  with  many  blushes,  after 
saluting  the  great  author.  The  great  author  was  accus- 
tomed to  be  adored.    A  gentler  wind  never  puffed  mortal 


^^ 


i:-^ 


■^^   o'te?^ 


7> 


f^ 


The  "Dictionary  Maker" 


THE  VIRGINIANS  341 

vanity.  Enraptured  spinsters  flung  tea-leaves  round 
him,  and  incensed  him  with  the  cofFee-pot.  Matrons 
kissed  the  shppers  they  had  worked  for  him.  There  was 
a  halo  of  virtue  round  his  nightcap.  All  Europe  had 
thrilled,  panted,  admired,  trembled,  wept,  over  the  pages 
of  the  immortal  little  kind  honest  man  with  the  round 
paunch.  Harry  came  back  quite  glowing  and  proud  at 
having  a  bow  from  him.  "  Ah!  "  says  he,  "  my  lord,  I 
am  glad  to  have  seen  him!  " 

"  Seen  him!  why,  dammy,  you  may  see  him  any  day  in 
his  shop,  I  suppose?  "  says  Jack,  with  a  laugh. 

"  My  brother  declared  that  he,  and  Mr.  Fielding,  I 
think,  was  the  name,  were  the  greatest  geniuses  in  Eng- 
land ;  and  often  used  to  say,  that  when  we  came  to  Eu- 
rope, his  first  pilgrimage  would  be  to  Mr.  Richardson," 
cried  Harry,  always  impetuous,  honest,  and  tender,  when 
he  spoke  of  the  dearest  friend. 

"  Your  brother  spoke  like  a  man,"  cried  Mr.  Wolfe, 
his  pale  face  likewise  flushing  up.  "  I  would  rather  be 
a  man  of  genius,  than  a  peer  of  the  realm." 

"  Every  man  to  his  taste,  Colonel,"  says  my  lord,  much 
amused.  "  Your  enthusiasm — I  don't  mean  anything 
personal — refreshes  me,  on  my  honour  it  does." 

"  So  it  does  me— by  gad— perfectly  refreshes  me," 
cries  Jack. 

"  So  it  does  Jack— you  see— it  actually  refreshes  Jack  I 
I  say.  Jack,  which  would  you  rather  be?— a  fat  old 
printer,  who  has  written  a  story  about  a  confounded 
girl  and  a  fellow  that  ruins  her,— or  a  Peer  of  Parlia- 
ment with  ten  thousand  a  year?  " 

"  March— my  Lord  March,  do  you  take  me  for  a 
fool? "  says  Jack,  with  a  tearful  voice.  "  Have  I  done 
anything  to  deserve  this  language  from  you  ? " 


342  THE    VIRGINIANS 

"  I  would  rather  win  honour  than  honoiu-s :  I  would 
rather  have  genius  than  wealth.  I  would  rather  make 
my  name  than  inherit  it,  though  my  father's,  thank  God, 
is  an  honest  one,"  said  the  young  Colonel.  "  But  par- 
don me,  gentlemen!  "  And  here  making  them  a  hasty 
salutation,  he  ran  across  the  parade  towards  a  young  and 
elderly  lady,  and  a  gentleman,  who  were  now  advancing. 

"  It  is  the  beautiful  ]Miss  Lowther.  I  remember  now," 
says  my  lord.  "See!  he  takes  her  arm !  The  report  is, 
he  is  engaged  to  her." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  such  a  fellow  is  engaged  to 
any  of  the  Lowthers  of  the  North?"  cries  out  Jack. 
"  Curse  me,  what  is  the  world  come  to,  with  your  printers, 
and  your  half -pay  ensigns,  and  your  schoolmasters,  and 
your  infernal  nonsense?  " 

The  Dictionary -maker,  who  had  shown  so  little  desire 
to  bow  to  my  Lord  Chesterfield,  when  that  famous  noble- 
man courteously  saluted  him,  w^as  here  seen  to  take  off 
his  beaver,  and  bow  almost  to  the  ground,  before  a  florid 
personage  in  a  large  round  hat,  with  bands  and  a  gown, 
who  made  his  appearance  in  the  Walk.  This  was  my 
Lord  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  wearing  complacently  the 
blue  riband  and  badge  of  the  Garter,  of  which  Noble 
Order  his  lordship  was  prelate. 

Mr.  Johnson  stood,  hat  in  liand,  during  the  whole  time 
of  his  conversation  with  Dr.  Gilbert;  who  made  many 
flattering  and  benedictory  remarks  to  JNIr.  Richardson, 
declaring  that  he  was  the  supporter  of  virtue,  the 
preacher  of  sound  morals,  the  mainstay  of  religion,  of  all 
which  points  the  honest  printer  himself  was  perfectly 
convinced. 

Do  not  let  any  young  lady  trip  to  her  grandpapa's 
bookcase  in  consequence  of  this  eulogium,  and  rashly 


THE  VIRGINIANS  343 

take  down  "  Clarissa  "  from  the  shelf.  She  would  not 
care  to  read  the  volumes,  over  which  her  pretty  ances- 
tresses wept  and  thrilled  a  hundred  years  ago;  which 
were  commended  b}^  divines  from  pulpits  and  belauded 
all  Eurojje  over.  I  wonder,  are  our  women  more  virtu- 
ous than  their  grandmothers,  or  only  more  squeamish? 
If  the  former,  then  Miss  Smith  of  New  York  is  certainly 
more  modest  than  IMiss  Smith  of  London,  who  still  does 
not  scruple  to  say  that  tables,  pianos,  and  animals  have 
legs.  Oh,  my  faithful,  good  old  Samuel  Richardson! 
Hath  the  news  yet  reached  thee  in  Hades  that  tlty  sub- 
lime novels  are  huddled  away  in  corners,  and  that  our 
daughters  maj^  no  more  read  "  Clarissa  "  than  "  Tom 
Jones?  "  Go  up,  Samuel,  and  be  reconciled  with  thy 
brother  scribe,  whom  in  life  thou  didst  hate  so.  I  wonder 
whether  a  century  hence  the  novels  of  to-day  will  be 
hidden  behind  locks  and  wires,  and  make  pretty  little 
maidens  blush? 

"  Who  is  yonder  queer  person  in  the  high  head-dress 
of  my  grandmother's  time,  who  stops  and  speaks  to  Mr. 
Richardson?"  asked  Harry,  as  a  fantastically  dressed 
lady  came  up,  and  performed  a  curtsey  and  a  compliment 
to  the  bowing  printer. 

Jack  INIorris  nervously  struck  Harry  a  blow  in  the 
side  with  the  butt  end  of  his  whi]).    Lord  March  laughed. 

"  Yonder  queer  person  is  my  gracious  kinswoman, 
Katharine,  Duchess  of  Dover  and  Queensberry,  at  your 
service,  Mr.  Warrington.  She  was  a  beauty  once!  She 
is  changed  now,  isn't  she?  What  an  old  Gorgon  it  is! 
She  is  a  great  patroness  of  j^our  book-men:  and  when 
that  old  fiump  was  young,  they  actually  made  verses 
about  her." 

The  Earl  (juitted  his  friends  for  a  moment  to  make 


344  THE  VIRGINIANS 

his  bow  to  the  old  Duchess,  Jack  Morris  explaining  to 
Mr.  Warrington  how,  at  the  Duke's  death,  my  Lord 
of  INIarch  and  Ruglen  would  succeed  to  his  cousin's 
dukedoms. 

"  I  suppose,"  says  Harry,  simply,  "  his  lordship  is 
here  in  attendance  upon  the  old  lady? " 

Jack  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"  Oh,  yes!  very  much — exactly!"  says  he.  "  Why,  my 
dear  fellow,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  haven't  heard 
about  the  little  Opera-dancer?  " 

"  I  am  but  lately  arrived  in  England,  Mr.  Morris," 
said  Harry,  with  a  smile,  "  and  in  Virginia,  I  own,  we 
have  not  heard  much  about  the  little  Opera-dancer." 

Luckily  for  us,  the  secret  about  the  little  Opera-dancer 
never  was  revealed,  for  the  young  men's  conversation 
was  interrupted  by  a  lady  in  a  cardinal  cape — and  a  hat 
by  no  means  unlike  those  lovely  headpieces  which  have 
returned  into  vogue  a  hundred  years  after  the  date  of  our 
present  history — who  made  a  profound  curtsey  to  the 
two  gentlemen  and  received  their  salutation  in  return. 
She  stopped  opposite  to  Harry ;  she  held  out  her  hand, 
rather  to  his  wonderment: 

"  Have  you  so  soon  forgotten  me,  Mr.  Warrington?  " 
she  said. 

Off  went  Harry's  hat  in  an  instant.  He  started, 
blushed,  stammered,  and  called  out  "  Good  heavens!  " 
as  if  there  had  been  any  celestial  wonder  in  the  circum- 
stance! It  was  Lady  Maria  come  out  for  a  walk.  He 
had  not  been  thinking  about  her.  She  was,  to  say  truth, 
for  the  moment  so  utterly  out  of  the  young  gentleman's 
mind,  that  her  sudden  re-entry  there  and  appearance  in 
the  body  startled  Mr.  Warrington's  faculties,  and  caused 
those  guilty  blushes  to  crowd  into  his  cheeks. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  345 

No.  He  was  not  even  thinking  of  her!  A  week  ago 
— a  year,  a  hundred  years  ago  it  seemed — he  would  not 
have  been  surprised  to  meet  her  anywhere.  Appearing 
*^from  amidst  darkling  shrubberies,  gliding  over  green 
garden  terraces,  loitering  on  stairs,  or  corridors,  hover- 
ing even  in  his  dreams,  all  day  or  all  night,  bodily  or 
spiritually,  he  had  been  accustomed  to  meet  her.  A 
week  ago  his  heart  used  to  beat.  A  week  ago,  and  at  the 
very  instant  when  he  jumped  out  of  his  sleep  there  was 
her  idea  smiling  on  him.  And  it  was  only  last  Tuesday 
that  his  love  was  stabbed  and  slain,  and  he  not  onlv 
had  left  off  mourning  for  her,  but  had  forgotten  her ! 

"  You  will  come  and  walk  with  me  a  little?  "  she  said. 
"  Or  would  you  like  the  music  best?  I  dare  say  you  will 
like  the  music  best." 

"  You  know,"  said  Harry,  "  I  don't  care  about  any 
music  much  except " — he  was  thinking  of  the  Evening 
Hymn — "  except  of  your  playing."  He  turned  very  red 
again  as  he  spoke,  he  felt  he  was  perjuring  himself  hor- 
ribly. 

The  poor  lady  was  agitated  herself  by  the  flutter  and 
agitation  which  she  saw  in  her  young  companion.  Gra- 
cious heaven!  Could  that  tremor  and  excitement  mean 
that  she  was  mistaken,  and  that  the  lad  was  still  faith- 
ful? "  Give  me  your  arm,  and  let  us  take  a  little  walk," 
she  said,  waving  round  a  curtsey  to  the  other  two  gentle- 
men: "my  aunt  is  asleep  after  her  dinner."  Harry 
could  not  but  offer  the  arm,  and  press  the  hand  that  lay 
against  his  heart.  Maria  made  another  fine  curtsey  to 
Harry's  bowing  companions,  and  walked  off  with  her 
prize.  In  her  griefs,  in  her  rages,  in  the  pains  and  an- 
guish of  wrong  and  desertion,  how  a  woman  remembers 
to  smile,  curtsey,  caress,  dissemble!     How  resolutely 


346  THE  VIRGINIANS 

they  discharge  the  social  proprieties;  how  they  have  a 
word,  or  a  hand,  or  a  kind  httle  speech  or  reply  for  the 
passing  acquaintance  who  crosses  unknowing  the  path 
of  the  tragedy,  drops  a  light  airy  remark  or  two,  (happy 
self-satisfied  rogue!)  and  passes  on.  He  passes  on,  and 
thinks:  "  That  woman  was  rather  pleased  with  what  I 
said.  That  joke  I  made  was  rather  neat.  I  do  really 
think  Lady  Maria  looks  rather  favourably  at  me,  and 
she's  a  dev'lish  fine  woman,  begad  she  is!  "  O  you  wise- 
acre! Such  was  Jack  Morris's  observation  and  case  as 
he  walked  away  leaning  on  the  arm  of  his  noble  friend, 
and  thinking  the  whole  Society  of  the  Wells  was  looking 
at  him.  He  had  made  some  exquisite  remarks  about  a 
particular  run  of  cards  at  Lady  Flushington's  the  night 
before,  and  Lady  Maria  had  replied  graciously  and 
neatly,  and  so  away  went  Jack  perfectly  happy. 

The  absurd  creature!  I  declare  we  know  nothing  of 
anybody  (but  that  for  my  part  I  know  better  and  better 
every  day).  You  enter  smiling  to  see  your  new  ac- 
quaintance, Mrs.  A.  and  her  charming  family.  You 
make- your  bow  in  the  elegant  drawing-room  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  B.  I  tell  you  that  in  your  course  through  life 
you  are  for  ever  putting  your  great  clumsy  foot  upon 
the  mute  invisible  wounds  of  bleeding  tragedies.  Mrs. 
B.'s  closets  for  what  you  know  are  stuffed  with  skele- 
tons. Look  there  under  the  sofa-cushion.  Is  that  merely 
JNIissy's  doll,  or  is  it  the  limb  of  a  stifled  Cupid  peeping 
out  ?  What  do  you  suppose  are  those  ashes  smouldering 
in  the  grate? — Very  likely  a  suttee  has  been  offered  up 
there  just  before  you  came  in:  a  faithful  heart  has  been 
burned  out  upon  a  callous  corpse,  and  you  are  looking 
on  the  cineri  doloso.  You  see  B.  and  his  wife  receiving 
their  company  before  dinner.     Gracious  j)Owers!     Do 


I 


THE  VIRGINIANS  347 

you  know  that  that  bouquet  which  she  wears  is  a  signal  to 
Captain  C,  and  that  he  will  find  a  note  under  the  little 

^^  bronze   Shakspeare  on  the  mantelpiece  in  the  study? 

"^And  with  all  this  you  go  up  and  say  some  uncommonly 
neat  thing  (as  you  fancy)  to  Mrs.  B.  about  the  weather 
(clever  dog!) ,  or  about  Lady  E.'s  last  party  (fashionable 
buck!),  or  about  the  dear  children  in  the  nursery  (in- 
sinuating rogue ! ) .  Heaven  and  earth,  my  good  Sir,  how 
can  you  tell  that  B.  is  not  going  to  pitch  all  the  children 
out  of  the  nursery  window  this  very  night,  or  that  his 
lady  has  not  made  an  arrangement  for  leaving  them,  and 
running  off  with  the  Captain?  How  do  you  know  that 
those  footmen  are  not  disguised  bailiffs? — that  yonder 
large-looking  butler  (really  a  skeleton)  is  not  the  pawn- 
broker's man?  and  tliat  there  are  not  skeleton  rotis  and 
entrees  under  every  one  of  the  covers?  Look  at  their 
feet  peeping  from  under  the  table-cloth.  Mind  how  you 
stretch  out  your  own  lovely  little  slippers,  Madam,  lest 
3^ou  knock  over  a  rib  or  two.  Remark  the  Death's-head 
moths  fluttering  among  the  flowers.  See  the  pale  wind- 
ing-sheets gleaming  in  the  wax-candles!  I  know  it  is 
an  old  story,  and  especially  that  this  preacher  has  yelled 
vanitas  vanitatum  five  hundred  times  before.  I  can't 
help  always  falling  upon  it,  and  cry  out  with  particular 
loudness  and  wailing,  and  become  especially  melancholy, 
when  I  see  a  dead  love  tied  to  a  live  love.  Ha!  I  look 
up  from  my  desk,  across  the  street:  and  there  come  in 
Mr.  and  IMrs.  D.  from  their  walk  in  Kensington  Gar- 
dens. How  she  hangs  on  him!  how  jolly  and  happy  he 
looks,  as  the  children  frisk  round!  My  poor  dear  be- 
nighted Mrs.  D.,  there  is  a  Regent's  Park  as  well  as  a 
Kensington  Gardens  in  the  world.  Go  in,  fond  wretch ! 
Smilingly  lay  before  him  what  you  know  he  likes  for 


348  THE  VIRGINIANS 

dinner.  Show  him  the  children's  copies  and  the  reports 
of  their  masters.  Go  with  Missy  to  the  piano,  and  play 
your  artless  duet  together;  and  fancy  you  are  happy! 

There  go  Harry  and  Maria  taking  their  evening  walk 
on  the  common,  away  from  the  village  which  is  waking 
up  from  its  after-dinner  siesta,  and  where  the  people 
are  beginning  to  stir  and  the  music  to  plaj^  With  the 
music  Maria  knows  Madame  de  Bernstein  will  waken: 
with  the  candles  she  must  be  back  to  the  tea-table  and 
the  cards.  Never  mind.  Here  is  a  minute.  It  may  be 
my  love  is  dead,  but  here  is  a  minute  to  kneel  over  the 
grave  and  pray  by  it.  He  certainly  was  not  thinking 
about  her:  he  was  startled  and  did  not  even  know  her. 
He  was  laughing  and  talking  with  Jack  Morris  and  my 
Lord  March.  He  is  twenty  years  younger  than  she. 
Never  mind.  To-day  is  to-day  in  which  we  are  all  equal. 
This  moment  is  ours.  Come,  let  us  walk  a  little  way 
over  the  heath,  Harry.  She  will  go,  though  she  feels 
a  deadly  assurance  that  he  will  tell  her  all  is  over  between 
them,  and  that  he  loves  the  dark-haired  girl  at  Oakhurst. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


PLENUM    OPUS   ALE^ 


me  hear  about 

those       children, 

child,     whom     I 

saw  running 

about  at  the  house 

where  they  took 

you  in,  poor  dear 

boy,         after 

your  dreadful 

fall?"       says 

Maria,         as 

they       paced 

the    common. 

"Oh,thatfall, 

Harry !  I 

thought  I  should  have  died  when  I  saw  it !  You  needn't 
squeeze  one's  arm  so.  You  know  you  don't  care  for 
me?" 


<( 


The  people  are  the  very  best,  kindest,  dearest  people 
I  have  ever  met  in  the  world,"  cries  Mr.  Warrington. 
"  Mrs.  Lambert  was  a  friend  of  my  mother  when  she  was 
in  Europe  for  her  education.  Colonel  Lambert  is  a  most 
accomplished  gentleman,  and  has  seen  service  every- 
where. He  was  in  Scotland  with  his  Royal  Highness, 
in  Flanders,  at  Minoi-ca.  No  natural  ])arents  could  be 
kinder  than  they  were  to  me.    How  can  I  show  my  grati- 

349 


350  THE  VIRGINIANS 

tude  to  them?  I  want  to  make  them  a  present:  I  must 
make  them  a  present,"  says  Harry,  clapping  his  hand 
into  his  pocket,  which  was  filled  with  the  crisp  spoils  of 
]\Iorris  and  March. 

"  We  can  go  to  the  toy-shop,  my  dear,  and  buy  a 
couple  of  dolls  for  the  children,"  says  Lady  Maria. 
"  You  would  offend  the  parents  by  offering  anything 
like  payment  for  their  kindness." 

"  Dolls  for  Hester  and  Theo!  Why,  do  you  think  a 
woman  is  not  woman  till  she  is  forty,  Maria?"  (The 
arm  under  Harry's  here  gave  a  wince  perhaps, — ever  so 
slight  a  wince.)  "  I  can  tell  you  Miss  Hester  by  no 
means  considers  herself  a  child,  and  Miss  Theo  is  older 
than  her  sister.  They  know  ever  so  many  languages. 
They  have  read  books— oh!  piles  and  piles  of  books! 
They  play  on  the  harpsichord  and  sing  together  admira- 
ble;  and  Theo  composes,  and  sings  songs  of  her  own." 

"  Indeed !  I  scarcely  saw  them.  I  thought  they  were 
children.  They  looked  quite  childish.  I  had  no  idea 
they  had  all  these  perfections,  and  were  such  wonders  of 
the  world." 

"  That's  just  the  way  with  3^ou  women!  At  home,  if 
me  or  George  praised  a  woman,  Mrs.  Esmond  and 
Mountain,  too,  would  be  sure  to  find  fault  with  her!" 
cries  Harry. 

"  I  am  sure  I  would  find  fault  with  no  one  who  is 
kind  to  you,  INIr,  Warrington,"  sighed  Maria,  "  though 
you  are  not  angry  with  me  for  envying  them  because 
they  had  to  take  care  of  you  when  you  were  wounded 
and  ill — whilst  I  —  I  had  to  leave  you?  " 

"  You  dear,  good  Maria!  " 

"  No,  Harry!  I  am  not  dear  and  good.  There,  sir, 
you  needn't  be  so  pressing  in  your  attentions.     Look! 


-> 


THE   VIRGINIANS  351 

There  is  your  black  man  walking  with  a  score  of  other 
wretches  in  livery.  The  horrid  creatures  are  going  to 
fuddle  at  the  tea-garden,  and  get  tipsy  like  their  mas- 
ters. That  dreadful  Mr.  INIorris  was  perfectly  tipsy 
when  I  came  to  you,  and  frightened  you  so." 

"  I  had  just  won  great  bets  from  both  of  them. 
What  shall  I  buy  for  you,  my  dear  cousin?  "  And 
Harry  narrated  the  triumphs  which  he  had  just 
achieved.  He  was  in  high  spirits:  he  laughed,  he 
bragged  a  little.  "  J'or  the  honour  of  Virginia  I  was 
determined  to  show  them  what  jumping  was,"  he  said. 
"  With  a  little  practice  I  think  I  could  leap  two  foot 
further." 

Maria  was  pleased  with  the  victories  of  her  young 
champion.  "  But  you  must  beware  about  i^lay,  child," 
she  said.  "  You  know  it  hath  been  the  ruin  of  our 
family.  ]My  brother  Castlewood,  Will,  our  poor  father, 
our  aunt,  Lady  Castlewood  herself,  they  have  all  been 
victims  to  it:  as  for  my  Lord  March,  he  is  the  most 
dreadful  gambler  and  the  most  successful  of  all  the 
nobility." 

"  I  don't  intend  to  be  afraid  of  him,  nor  of  his  friend 
Mr.  Jack  Morris  neither,"  says  Harry,  again  fingering 
the  delightful  notes.  "  What  do  you  play  at  Aunt 
Bernstein's?  Cribbage,  all-fours,  brag,  whist,  commerce, 
picquet,  quadrille?  I'm  ready  at  any  of  'em.  What 
o'clock  is  that  striking— sure  'tis  seven!" 

"  And  you  want  to  begin  now,"  said  the  plaintive 
INIaria.  "  You  don't  care  about  walking  with  your  poor 
cousin.    Not  long  ago  you  did." 

"Hey!  Youth  is  youth,  cousin!"  cried  Mr.  Harry, 
tossing  up  his  head,  "  and  a  young  fellow  must  have  his 
fling!  "  and  he  strutted  by  liis  partner's  side,  confident, 


352  THE  VIRGINIANS 

happy,  and  eager  for  pleasure.     Not  long  ago  he  did 
like  to  walk  with  her.     Only  yesterday  he  liked  to  be 
with  Theo  and  Hester,  and  good  Mrs.  Lambert;    but 
pleasure,  life,  gaiety,  the  desire  to  shine  and  to  conquer, 
had  also  their  temptations  for  the  lad,  who  seized  the 
cup  like  other  lads,  and  did  not  care  to  calculate  on  the 
headache  in  store  for  the  morning.    Whilst  he  and  his 
cousin  were  talking,  the  fiddles  from  the  open  orchestra 
on  the  Parade  made  a  great  tuning  and  squeaking,  pre- 
paratory to  their  usual  evening  concert.     Maria  knew 
her  aunt  was  awake  again,  and  that  she  must  go  back 
to  her  slavery.     Harry  never  asked  about  that  slavery, 
though  he  must  have  known  it,  had  he  taken  the  trouble 
to  think.     He  never  pitied  his  cousin.     He  was  not 
thinking  about  her  at  all.     Yet  when  his  mishap  befell 
him,  she  had  been  wounded  far  more  cruelly  than  he 
was.     He  had  scarce  ever  been  out  of  her  thoughts, 
which  of  course  she  had  had  to  bury  under  smiling 
hypocrisies,  as  is  the  way  with  her  sex.     I  know,  my 
dear  Mrs.  Grundy,  you  think  she  was  an  old  fool  ?    Ah ! 
do  you  suppose  fools'  caps  do  not  cover  grey  hair,  as 
well  as  jet  or  auburn?     Bear  gently  with  our  elderly 
fredaines,  O  you  Minerva  of  a  woman!     Or  perhaps 
you  are  so  good  and  wise  that  you  don't  read  novels  at 
all  ?    This  I  know,  that  there  are  late  crops  of  wild  oats, 
as  well  as  early  harvests  of  them;   and  (from  observa- 
tion of  self  and  neighbour)    I  have  an  idea  that  the 
avena  fatua  grows  up  to  the  very  last  days  of  the  year. 
Like  worldly  parents  anxious  to  get  rid  of  a  trouble- 
some child,  and  go  out  to  their  evening  party,  Madame 
Bernstein  and  her  attendants  had  put  the  sun  to  bed, 
whilst  it  was  as  yet  light,  and  had  drawn  the  curtains 
over  it,  and  were  busy  about  their  cards  and  their  can- 


THE   VIRGINIANS  353 

dies,  and  their  tea  and  negus,  and  other  refreshments. 
One  chair  after  another  landed  ladies  at  the  Baroness's 
door,  more  or  less  painted,  patched,  brocaded.  To  these 
came  gentlemen  in  gala  raiment.  Mr.  Poellnitz's  star 
was  the  largest,  and  his  coat  the  most  embroidered  of 
all  present.  My  Lord  of  March  and  Ruglen,  when  he 
made  his  appearance,  was  quite  changed  from  the  indi- 
vidual with  whom  Harry  had  made  acquaintance  at  the 
"  White  Horse."  His  tight  brown  scratch  was  ex- 
changed for  a  neatly  curled  feather  top,  with  a  bag  and 
grey  powder,  his  jockey-dress  and  leather  breeches  re- 
placed by  a  rich  and  elegant  French  suit.  Mr.  Jack 
Morris  had  just  such  another  wig  and  a  suit  of  stuif  as 
closely  as  possible  resembling  his  lordshi23's.  Mr.  Wolfe 
came  in  attendance  upon  his  beautiful  mistress,  Miss 
Lowther,  and  her  aunt  who  loved  cards,  as  all  the  world 
did.  When  my  Lady  Maria  Esmond  made  her  appear- 
ance, 'tis  certain  that  her  looks  belied  Madame  Bern- 
stein's account  of  her.  Her  shape  was  very  fine,  and  her 
dress  showed  a  great  deal  of  it.  Her  complexion  was  by 
nature  exceeding  fair,  and  a  dark  frilled  ribbon,  clasped 
by  a  jewel,  round  her  neck,  enhanced  its  snowy  white- 
ness. Her  cheeks  were  not  redder  than  those  of  other 
ladies  present,  and  the  roses  were  pretty  openly  pur- 
chased by  everybody  at  the  perfumery-shops.  An  art- 
ful patch  or  two,  it  was  supposed,  added  to  the  lustre 
of  her  charms.  Her  hoop  was  not  larger  than  the  iron 
contrivances  which  ladies  of  the  present  day  hang 
round  their  persons;  and  we  may  pronounce  that  the 
costume,  if  absurd  in  some  points,  was  pleasing  alto- 
gether. Suppose  our  ladies  took  to  wearing  of  bangles 
and  nose-rings?  I  dare  say  we  should  laugli  at  the  orna- 
ments, and  not  dislike  them,  and  lovers  would  make  no 


354  THE   VIRGINIANS 

difficulty  about  lifting  up  the  ring  to  be  able  to  ap- 
proach the  rosy  lips  underneath. 

As  for  the  Baroness  de  Bernstein,  when  that  lady 
took  the  pains  of  making  a  grand  toilette,  she  appeared 
as  an  object,  handsome  still,  and  magnificent,  but  mel- 
ancholy, and  even  somewhat  terrifying  to  behold.  You 
read  the  past  in  some  old  faces,  while  some  others  lapse 
into  mere  meekness  and  content.  The  fires  go  quite 
out  of  some  eyes,  as  the  crow's-feet  pucker  round  them ; 
they  flash  no  longer  with  scorn,  or  with  anger,  or  love: 
they  gaze,  and  no  one  is  melted  by  their  sapphire 
glances;  they  look,  and  no  one  is  dazzled.  My  fair 
young  reader,  if  j^ou  are  not  so  perfect  a  beauty  as  the 
peerless  Lindamira,  Queen  of  the  Ball;  if  at  the  end 
of  it,  as  you  retire  to  bed,  j^ou  meekly  own  that  you  have 
had  but  two  or  three  partners,  w^hilst  Lindamira  has 
had  a  crowd  round  her  all  night — console  yourself  with 
thinking  that,  at  fifty,  you  will  look  as  kind  and  pleas- 
ant as  you  appear  now  at  eighteen.  You  will  not  have 
to  lay  down  your  coach  and  six  of  beauty  and  see  another 
step  into  it,  and  walk  yourself  through  the  rest  of  life. 
You  will  have  to  forego  no  long-accustomed  homage; 
you  will  not  witness  and  own  the  depreciation  of  your 
smiles.  You  will  not  see  fashion  forsake  your  quarter; 
and  remain  all  dust,  gloom,  and  cobwebs  within  your 
once  splendid  saloons,  with  placards  in  your  sad  win- 
dows, gaunt,  lonely,  and  to  let!  You  may  not  have 
known  any  grandeur,  but  you  won't  feel  any  desertion. 
You  will  not  have  enjoyed  millions,  but  you  will  have 
escaped  bankruptcy.  "  Our  hostess,"  said  my  Lord 
Chesterfield  to  his  friend  in  a  confidential  whisper,  of 
which  the  utterer  did  not  in  the  least  know  the  loudness, 
"  puts  me  in  mind  of  Covent  Garden  in  my  youth.  Then 


THE  VIRGINIANS  855 

it  was  the  court  end  of  the  town,  and  inhabited  by  the 
highest  fashion.     Now,  a  nobleman's  house  is  a  gam- 

, jng-house,  or  you  may  go  in  with  a  friend  and  call  for 

"a  bottle." 

"  Hey!  a  bottle  and  a  tavern  are  good  things  in  their 
way,"  says  my  Lord  March,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoul- 
ders. "  I  was  not  born  before  the  Georges  came  in, 
though  I  intend  to  live  to  a  hundred.  I  never  knew  the 
Bernstein  but  as  an  old  woman;  and  if  she  ever  had 
beauty,  hang  me  if  I  know  how  she  spent  it." 

"  No,  hang  me,  how  did  she  spend  it?  "  laughs  out 
Jack  iMorris. 

"  Here's  a  table !  Shall  we  sit  down  and  have  a 
game? — Don't  let  the  German  come  in.  He  won't  pay. 
jNIr.  Warrington,  will  you  take  a  card?"  Mr.  War- 
rington and  my  Lord  Chesterfield  found  themselves 
partners  against  Mr.  Morris  and  the  Earl  of  IVIarch. 
"  You  have  come  too  late,  Baron,"  says  the  elder  noble- 
man to  the  other  nobleman  who  was  advancing.  "  We 
have  made  our  game.  What,  have  you  forgotten  Mr. 
Warrington  of  Virginia — the  young  gentleman  whom 
you  met  in  London?  " 

*'  The  young  gentleman  whom  I  met  at  Arthur's 
Chocolate  House  had  black  hair,  a  little  cocked  nose, 
and  was  by  no  means  so  fortunate  in  his  personal  ap- 
pearance as  iNIr.  Wairington,"  said  the  Baron  with 
much  presence  of  mind.  "  Warrington,  Dorrington, 
Harrington?  We  of  the  continent  cannot  retain  your 
insular  names.  I  certify  that  this  gentleman  is  not  the 
individual  of  whom  I  spoke  at  dinner."  And,  glan- 
cing kindly  u])ori  him,  the  old  bean  sidled  away  to  a 
farther  end  of  the  loom,  where  Mr.  Wolfe  and  Miss 
Lowther  were  engaged  in  deep  conversation  in  the  em- 


356  THE   VIRGINIANS 

brasure  of  a  window.  Here  the  Baron  thought  fit  to 
engage  the  Lieutenant-Colonel  upon  the  Prussian  man- 
ual exercise,  which  had  lately  been  introduced  into  King 
George  II. 's  army— a  subject  with  which  Mr.  Wolfe 
was  thoroughly  familiar,  and  which  no  doubt  would  have 
interested  him  at  any  other  moment  but  that.  Never- 
theless the  old  gentleman  uttered  his  criticisms  and  opin- 
ions, and  thought  he  perfectly  charmed  the  two  persons 
to  whom  he  communicated  them. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  evening  the  Baroness 
received  her  guests  personally,  and  as  they  arrived  en- 
gaged them  in  talk  and  introductory  courtesies.  But 
as  the  rooms  and  tables  filled,  and  the  parties  were  made 
up,  Madame  de  Bernstein  became  more  and  more  rest- 
less, and  finally  retreated  with  three  friends  to  her  own 
corner,  where  a  table  specially  reserved  for  her  was  occu- 
pied by  her  major-domo.  And  here  the  old  lady  sat 
down  resolutely,  never  changing  her  place  or  quitting 
her  game  till  cock-crow.  The  charge  of  receiving  the 
company  devolved  now  upon  my  Lady  Maria,  who  did 
not  care  for  cards,  but  dutifully  did  the  honours  of  the 
house  to  her  aunt's  guests,  and  often  rustled  by  the  table 
where  her  young  cousin  was  engaged  with  his  three 
friends. 

"  Come  and  cut  the  cards  for  us,"  said  my  Lord 
March  to  her  ladyship,  as  she  passed  on  one  of  her 
wistful  visits.  "  Cut  the  cards,  and  bring  us  luck.  Lady 
Maria!  We  have  had  none  to-night,  and  Mr.  Warring- 
ton is  winning  everything." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  playing  high,  Harry,"  said  the 
lady,  timidly. 

"  Oh,  no,  only  sixpences,"  cried  my  lord,  dealing. 

"  Only  sixpences,"  echoed  Mr.  Morris,  who  was  Lord 
March's  partner.    But  Mr.  Morris  must  have  been  very 


THE   VIRGINIANS  357 

keenl}"  alive  to  the  value  of  sixpence,  if  the  loss  of  a 
few  such  coins  could  make  his  round  face  look  so  dismal. 
^  My  Lord  Chesterfield  sat  opposite  Mr.  Warrington, 
"  sorting  his  cards.  No  one  could  say,  by  inspecting  that 
calm  physiognomy,  whether  good  or  ill  fortune  was  at- 
tending his  lordship. 

Some  word  not  altogether  indicative  of  delight, 
slipped  out  of  Mr.  INIorris's  lips,  on  which  his  partner 
cried  out,  "  Hang  it,  Morris,  play  your  cards,  and  hold 
your  tongue!"  Considering  they  were  only  playing 
for  sixpences,  his  lordship,  too,  was  strangely  affected. 

IMaria,  still  fondly  lingering  by  Harry's  chair,  with 
her  hand  at  the  back  of  it,  could  see  his  cards,  and  that 
a  whole  covey  of  trumps  was  ranged  in  one  corner.  She 
had  not  taken  awaj^  his  luck.  She  was  pleased  to  think 
she  had  cut  that  pack  which  had  dealt  him  all  those 
pretty  trumps.  As  Lord  INIarch  was  dealing,  he  had 
said  in  a  quiet  voice  to  Mr.  Warrington,  "  The  bet  as 
before,  Mr.  Warrington,  or  shall  we  double  it?" 

"  Anything  you  like,  my  lord,"  said  Mr.  Warrington, 
verj^  quietly. 

*'  We  will  say,  then  — shillings." 

"  Yes,  shillings,"  says  Mr.  Warrington,  and  the  game 
proceeded. 

The  end  of  the  day's,  and  some  succeeding  days'  sport 
may  be  gathered  from  the  following  letter,  which  was 
never  delivered  to  the  person  to  whom  it  was  addressed, 
but  found  its  way  to  America  in  the  papers  of  Mr. 
Henry  Warrington:  — 

"Tunbridjre  Wells,  August  10,  1756. 
"  Dear  George, — As  White's  two  bottles  of  Burp;iin(ly  and 
a  pack   of  cards   constitute   all   the   joys   of  your   life,   I   take 
for  granted  that  you  are  in  Ijondon  at  this  moment,  preferring 


358  THE   VIRGINIANS 

smoke  and  faro  to  fresh  air  and  fresh  haystacks.  This  will  be 
delivered  to  you  by  a  young  gentleman  with  whom  I  have  lately 
made  acquaintance,  and  whom  you  will  be  charmed  to  know.  He 
will  play  w^ith  you  at  any  game  for  any  stake,  up  to  any  hour 
of  the  night,  and  drink  any  reasonable  number  of  bottles  during 
the  play.  Mr.  Warrington  is  no  other  than  the  Fortunate 
Youth  about  whom  so  many  stories  have  been  told  in  the 
Public  Advertiser  and  other  prints.  He  has  an  estate  in  Vir- 
ginia as  big  as  Yorkshire,  with  the  incumbrance  of  a  motlier, 
the  reigning  Sovereign ;  but,  as  the  country  is  unwholesome,  and 
fevers  plentiful,  let  us  hope  that  Mrs.  Esmond  will  die  soon, 
and  leave  this  virtuous  lad  in  undisturbed  possession.  She  is 
aunt  of  that  polisson  of  a  Castlewood,  who  never  pays  his  play- 
debts,  unless  he  is  more  honourable  in  his  dealings  with  you  than 
he  has  been  with  me.  Mr.  W.  is  de  bonne  race.  We  must  have 
him  of  our  society,  if  it  be  only  that  I  may  win  my  money  back 
from  him. 

"  He  has  had  the  devil's  luck  here,  and  has  been  winning  every- 
thing, whilst  his  old  card-playing  beldam  of  an  aunt  has  been 
losing.  A  few  nights  ago,  when  I  first  had  the  ill  luck  to 
make  his  acquaintance,  he  beat  me  in  jumping  (having  practised 
the  art  amongst  the  savages,  and  running  away  from  bears 
in  his  native  woods)  ;  he  won  bets  of  me  and  Jack  Morris  about 
my  weight ;  and  at  night,  when  we  sat  down  to  play,  at  old 
Bernstein's,  he  won  from  us  all  round.  If  you  can  settle  our 
last  Epsom  account,  please  hand  over  to  Mr.  Warrington  350Z., 
which  I  still  owe  him,  after  pretty  well  emptying  my  pocket- 
book.  Chesterfield  has  dropped  six  hundred  to  him,  too;  but 
his  lordship  does  not  wish  to  have  it  known,  having  sworn  to  give 
up  play,  and  live  cleanly.  Jack  Morris,  who  has  not  been  hit 
as  hard  as  either  of  us,  and  can  afford  it  quite  as  well,  for 
the  fat  chuff  has  no  houses  nor  train  to  keep  up,  and  all  his 
misbegotten  father's  money  in  hand,  roars  like  a  bull  of  Bashan 
about  his  losses.  We  had  a  second  night's  play,  en  petit  comite, 
and    Barbeau    served    us    a    fair    dinner    in    a    private    room. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  359 

Mr.  Warrington  holds  his  tongue  hke  a  gentleman,  and  none  of 
us  have  talked  about  our  losses;  but  the  whole  place  does,  for 
us.  Yesterday  the  Cattarina  looked  as  sulky  as  thunder,  because 
J^I  Mould  not  give  her  a  diamond  necklace,  and  says  I  refuse 
her,  because  I  have  lost  five  thousand  to  the  Virginian.  My 
old  Duchess  of  Q.  has  the  very  same  story,  besides  knowing  to 
a  fraction  what  Chesterfield  and  Jack  have  lost. 

"  Warrington  treated  the  company  to  breakfast  and  music 
at  the  rooms;  and  you  should  have  seen  how  the  women  tore 
him  to  pieces.  That  fiend  of  a  Cattarina  ogled  him  out  of  my 
vis-a-vis,  and  under  my  very  nose,  yesterday,  as  we  were  driving 
to  Penshurst,  and  I  have  no  doubt  has  sent  him  a  billet-doux 
ere  this.  He  shot  Jack  Morris  all  to  pieces  at  a  mark:  we  shall 
try  him  with  partridges  when  the  season  comes. 

"  He  is  a  fortunate  fellow,  certainly.  He  has  youth  (which 
is  not  deboshed  by  evil  courses  in  Virginia,  as  ours  is  in  Eng- 
land); he  has  good  health,  good  looks,  and  good  luck. 

"  In  a  word,  Mr.  Warrington  has  won  our  money  in  a  very 
gentlemanlike  manner ;  and,  as  I  like  him,  and  wish  to  win  some 
of  it  back  again,  I  put  him  under  your  worship's  saintly  guard- 
ianship. Adieu !  I  am  going  to  the  North,  and  shall  be  back  for 
Doncaster. 

"  Yours  ever,  dear  George, 

"  M.  &  R." 

"To  George  Augustus  Selwyn,  Esq.,  at  White's  Chocolate  House, 
St.  James's  Street." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


THE   WAY    OF   THE   WORLD 

UR  young  Virginian  found  him- 
self, after  two  or  three  days  at 
Tunbridge  Wells,  by  far  the 
most  important  personage 
in  that  merry  little  water- 
ing-place. No  nobleman 
in  the  place  inspired  so 
much  curiosity.  My  Lord 
Bishop  of  Salisbuiy  him- 
self was  scarce  treated 
with  more  respect.  People 
turned  round  to  look  af- 
ter Harry  as  he  passed, 
and  country-folks  stared 
at  him  as  they  came  into 
market.  At  the  rooms, 
matrons  encouraged  him  to  come  round  to  them,  and 
found  means  to  leave  him  alone  with  their  daughters, 
most  of  whom  smiled  upon  him.  Everybody  knew,  to 
an  acre  and. a  shilling,  the  extent  of  his  Virginian  prop- 
erty, and  the  amount  of  his  income.  At  every  tea-table 
in  the  Wells,  his  winnings  at  play  were  told  and  calcu- 
lated. Wonderful  is  the  knowledge  which  our  neigh- 
bours have  of  our  affairs!  So  great  was  the  interest 
and  curiosity  which  Harry  inspired,  that  people  even 
smiled  upon  his  servant,  and  took  Gumbo  aside  and 

360 


^^ 


The  Ruling  Paaeion 


THE  VIRGINIANS  361 

treated  him  with  ale  and  cold  meat,  in  order  to  get  news 
of  the  young  Virginian.  JNIr.  Gumbo  fattened  under 
the  diet,  became  a  leading  member  of  the  Society  of 
Valets  in  the  place,  and  lied  more  enormously  than  ever. 
No  party  was  complete  unless  INIr.  Warrington  at- 
tended it.  The  lad  was  not  a  little  amused  and  aston- 
ished by  this  prosperity,  and  bore  his  new  honours  pretty 
well.  He  had  been  bred  at  home  to  think  too  well  of 
himself,  and  his  present  good  fortune  no  doubt  tended 
to  confirm  his  self-satisfaction.  But  he  was  not  too 
much  elated.  He  did  not  brag  about  his  victories  or 
give  himself  any  particular  airs.  In  engaging  in  play 
with  the  gentlemen  who  challenged  him,  he  had  acted 
up  to  his  queer  code  of  honour.  He  felt  as  if  he  was 
bound  to  meet  them  when  they  summoned  him,  and  that 
if  they  invited  him  to  a  horse-race,  or  a  drinking-bout, 
or  a  match  at  cards,  for  the  sake  of  Old  Virginia  he  must 
not  draw  back.  ]\Ir.  Harry  found  his  new  acquain- 
tances ready  to  try  him  at  all  these  sports  and  contests. 
He  had  a  strong  head,  a  skilful  hand,  a  firm  seat,  and 
unflinching  nerve.  The  representative  of  Old  Virginia 
came  off  very  well  in  his  friendly  rivalry  with  the  mother 
country. 

Madame  de  Bernstein,  who  got  her  fill  of  cards  every 
night,  and,  no  doubt,  repaired  the  ill  fortune  of  which 
we  heard  in  the  last  chapter,  was  delighted  with  her 
nephew's  victories  and  reputation.  He  had  shot  with 
Jack  Morris  and  beat  him :  he  had  ridden  a  match  with 
Mr.  Scamper  and  won  it.  He  played  tennis  with  Cap- 
tain Batts,  and,  thougli  tlie  boy  had  never  tried  the 
game  before,  in  a  few  days  he  held  his  own  uncommonly 
well.  He  had  engaged  in  ])lay  witli  those  cele])ratcd 
gamesters,  my  I^ords  of  Chesterfield  and  March;    and 


362  THE   VIRGINIANS 

they  both  bore  testimony  to  his  coohiess,  gallantry,  and 
good  breeding.  At  his  books  Harry  was  not  brilliant 
certainly:  but  he  could  write  as  well  as  a  great  number 
of  men  of  fashion;  and  the  naivete  of  his  ignorance 
amused  the  old  lady.  She  had  read  books  in  her  time, 
and  could  talk  very  well  about  them  with  bookish  peo- 
ple: she  had  a  relish  for  humour  and  delighted  in  Mo- 
liere  and  ]Mr.  Fielding,  but  she  loved  the  world  far  better 
than  the  library,  and  was  never  so  interested  in  any 
novel  but  that  she  would  leave  it  for  a  game  of  cards. 
She  superintended  with  fond  pleasure  the  improve- 
ments of  Harry's  toilette:  rummaged  out  fine  laces  for 
his  ruffles  and  shirt,  and  found  a  pretty  diamond- 
brooch  for  his  frill.  He  attained  the  post  of  prime 
favourite  of  all  her  nephews  and  kinsfolk.  I  fear  Lady 
Maria  was  only  too  well  pleased  at  the  lad's  successes, 
and  did  not  grudge  him  his  superiority  over  her 
brothers;  but  those  gentlemen  must  have  quaked  with 
fear  and  envy  when  they  heard  of  Mr.  Warrington's 
prodigious  successes,  and  the  advance  which  he  had 
made  in  their  wealthy  aunt's  favour. 

After  a  fortnight  of  Tunbridge,  Mr.  Harry  had  be- 
come quite  a  personage.  He  knew  all  the  good  com- 
pany in  the  place.  Was  it  his  fault  if  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  the  bad  likewise?  Was  he  very  wrong  in 
taking  the  world  as  he  found  it,  and  drinking  from  that 
sweet  sparkling  pleasure-cup,  which  was  filled  for  him 
to  the  brim?  The  old  aunt  enjoyed  his  triumphs,  and 
for  her  part  only  bade  him  pursue  his  enjoyments.  She 
was  not  a  rigorous  old  moralist,  nor,  perhaps,  a  very 
wholesome  preceptress  for  youth.  If  the  Cattarina 
wrote  him  billets-doux,  I  fear  Aunt  Bernstein  would 
have  bade  him  accept  the  invitations:    but  the  lad  had 


THE   VIRGINIANS  363 

brought  with  him  from  his  colonial  home  a  stock  of 
modesty  which  he  still  wore  along  with  the  honest  home- 
spun linen.  Libertinism  was  rare  in  those  thinly-peo- 
"^pled  regions  from  which  he  came.  The  vices  of  great 
cities  were  scarce  known  or  practised  in  the  rough 
of  the  American  Continent,  Harry  Warrington 
blushed  like  a  girl  at  the  daring  talk  of  his  new  Euro- 
pean associates:  even  Aunt  Bernstein's  conversation 
and  jokes  astounded  the  young  Virginian,  so  that  the 
worldly  old  woman  would  call  him  Joseph,  or  simple- 
ton. 

But,  however  innocent  he  was,  the  world  gave  him 
credit  for  being  as  bad  as  other  folks.  How  was  he  to 
know  that  he  was  not  to  associate  with  that  saucy  Cat- 
tarina?  He  had  seen  my  Lord  March  driving  her  about 
in  his  lordship's  phaeton.  Harry  thought  there  was  no 
harm  in  giving  her  his  arm,  and  parading  openly  with 
her  in  the  public  walks.  She  took  a  fancy  to  a  trinket 
at  the  toy-shop ;  and,  as  his  pockets  were  full  of  money, 
he  was  delighted  to  make  her  a  present  of  the  locket, 
which  she  coveted.  The  next  day  it  was  a  piece  of  lace: 
again  Harry  gratified  her.  The  next  day  it  was  some- 
thing else:  there  was  no  end  to  Madam  Cattarina's 
fancies:  but  here  the  young  gentleman  stopped,  turn- 
ing off  her  request  with  a  joke  and  a  laugh.  He  was 
shrewd  enough,  and  not  reckless  or  prodigal,  though 
generous.  He  had  no  idea  of  purchasing  diamond 
drops  for  the  petulant  little  lady's  pretty  ears. 

But  who  was  to  give  him  credit  for  his  modesty?  Old 
Bernstein  insisted  upon  believing  that  her  nephew  was 
playing  Don  Juan's  part,  and  supplanting  my  Lord 
March.  She  insisted  the  more  when  poor  Maria  was 
by;    loving  to  stab  the  tender  heart  of  that  spinster, 


364  THE   VIRGINIANS 

and  enjoying  her  niece's  piteous  silence  and  discom- 
fiture. 

"  Why,  my  dear,"  says  the  Baroness,  "  boys  will  be 
boys,  and  I  don't  want  Harry  to  be  the  first  milksop  in 
his  family!  "  The  bread  which  Maria  ate  at  her  aunt's 
expense  choked  her  sometimes.  Oh  me,  how  hard  and 
indigestible  some  women  know  how  to  make  it ! 

Mr.  Wolfe  was  for  ever  coming  over  from  Wester- 
ham  to  pay  court  to  the  lady  of  his  love ;  and,  knowing 
that  the  Colonel  was  entirely  engaged  in  that  pursuit, 
Mr.  Warrington  scarcely  expected  to  see  much  of  him, 
however  much  he  liked  that  officer's  conversation  and 
society.  It  was  different  from  the  talk  of  the  ribald 
people  round  about  Harry.  Mr.  Wolfe  never  spoke 
of  cards,  or  horses'  pedigrees;  or  bragged  of  his  per- 
formances in  the  hunting-field,  or  boasted  of  the  favours 
of  women ;  or  retailed  any  of  the  innumerable  scandals 
of  the  time.  It  was  not  a  good  time.  That  old  world 
was  more  dissolute  than  ours.  There  was  an  old  king 
with  mistresses  openly  in  his  train,  to  whom  the  great 
folks  of  the  land  did  honour.  There  was  a  nobility, 
many  of  whom  were  mad  and  reckless  in  the  pursuit  of 
pleasure ;  there  was  a  looseness  of  words  and  acts  which 
we  must  note,  as  faithful  historians,  without  going  into 
particulars,  and  needlessly  shocking  present  readers. 
Our  young  gentleman  had  lighted  upon  some  of  the 
wildest  of  these  wild  people,  and  had  found  an  old 
relative  who  lived  in  the  very  midst  of  the  rout. 

Harry  then  did  not  remark  how  Colonel  Wolfe 
avoided  him,  or  when  they  casually  met,  at  first  notice 
the  Colonel's  cold  and  altered  demeanour.  He  did  not 
know  the  stories  that  were  told  of  him.  Who  does  know 
the  stories  that  are  told  of  him?     Who  makes  them? 


>^. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  365 

Who  are  the  fathers  of  those  wondrous  lies?  Poor 
Harry  did  not  know  the  reputation  he  was  getting ;  and 
that,  whilst  he  was  riding  his  horse  and  playing  his 
^•game  and  taking  his  frolic,  he  was  passing  amongst 
many  respectable  persons  for  being  the  most  abandoned 
and  profligate  and  godless  of  young  men. 

Alas,  and  alas!  to  think  that  the  lad  whom  we  liked 
so,  and  who  was  so  gentle  and  quiet  when  with  us,  so 
simple  and  so  easily  pleased,  should  be  a  hardened  profli- 
gate, a  spendthrift,  a  confirmed  gamester,  a  frequenter 
of  abandoned  women!  These  stories  came  to  worthy 
Colonel  Lambert  at  Oakhurst:  first  one  bad  story,  then 
another,  then  crowds  of  them,  till  the  good  man's  kind 
heart  was  quite  filled  with  grief  and  care,  so  that  his 
family  saw  that  something  annoyed  him.  At  first  he 
would  not  speak  on  the  matter  at  all,  and  put  aside  the 
wife's  fond  queries.  ]Mrs.  Lambert  thought  a  great  mis- 
fortune had  happened;  that  her  husband  had  been 
ruined;  that  he  had  been  ordered  on  a  dangerous  ser- 
vice; that  one  of  the  boys  was  ill,  disgraced,  dead;  who 
can  resist  an  anxious  woman,  or  escape  the  cross-exam- 
ination of  the  conjugal  pillow?  Lambert  was  obliged 
to  tell  a  part  of  what  he  knew  about  Harry  Warring- 
ton. The  wife  was  as  much  grieved  and  amazed  as  her 
husband  had  been.  From  papa's  and  mamma's  bed- 
room the  grief,  after  being  stifled  for  a  while  under  the 
bed-pillows  there,  came  down  stairs.  Theo  and  Hester 
took  the  complaint  after  their  parents,  and  had  it  very 
bad.  O  kind  little  wounded  hearts!  At  first  ITester 
turned  red,  flew  into  a  great  passion,  clenched  her  little 
fists,  and  vowed  she  would  not  believe  a  word  of  the 
wicked  stories;  but  she  ended  by  believing  them.  Scan- 
dal almost  always  does  master  people:   especially  good 


366  THE  VIRGINIANS 

and  innocent  people.  Oh,  the  serpent  they  had  nursed 
by  their  fire!  Oh,  the  wretched,  wretched  boy!  To 
think  of  his  walking  about  with  that  horrible  painted 
Frenchwoman,  and  giving  her  diamond  necklaces,  and 
parading  his  shame  before  all  the  society  at  the  Wells! 
The  three  ladies  having  cried  over  the  story,  and  the 
father  being  deepl}"  moved  by  it,  took  the  parson  into 
their  confidence.  In  vain  he  preached  at  church  next 
Sunday  his  favourite  sermon  about  scandal,  and  in- 
veighed against  our  propensity  to  think  evil.  We  re- 
pent ;  we  promise  to  do  so  no  more ;  but  when  the  next  bad 
story  comes  about  our  neighbour  we  believe  it.  So  did 
those  kind,  wretched  Oakhurst  folks  believe  what  they 
heard  about  poor  Harry  Warrington. 

Harry  Warrington  meanwhile  was  a  great  deal  too 
well  pleased  with  himself  to  know  how  ill  his  friends 
were  thinking  of  him,  and  was  pursuing  a  very  idle  and 
pleasant,  if  unprofitable,  life,  without  having  the  least 
notion  of  the  hubbub  he  was  creating,  and  the  dreadful 
repute  in  which  he  was  held  by  many  good  men.  Com- 
ing out  from  a  match  at  tennis  with  Mr.  Batts,  and 
pleased  with  his  play  and  all  the  world,  Harry  over- 
took Colonel  Wolfe,  who  had  been  on  one  of  his  visits 
to  the  lady  of  his  heart.  Harry  held  out  his  hand,  which 
the  Colonel  took,  but  the  latter's  salutation  was  so  cold, 
that  the  young  man  could  not  help  remarking  it,  and 
especially  noting  how  Mr.  Wolfe,  in  return  for  a  fine 
bow  from  Mr.  Batts's  hat,  scarcely  touched  his  own 
with  his  forefinger.  The  tennis  captain  walked  away 
looking  somewhat  disconcerted,  Harry  remaining  be- 
hind to  talk  with  his  friend  of  Westerham.  Mr.  Wolfe 
walked  by  him  for  a  while,  very  erect,  silent,  and  cold. 

"  I  have  not  seen  you  these  manj^  days,"  says  Harry. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  367 


«  xr. 


You  have  had  other  companions,"  remarks  Mr. 
Wolfe,  curtly. 

"  But  I  had  rather  be  with  you  than  any  of  them," 
"feries  the  young  man. 

"  Indeed  I  might  be  better  company  for  you  than 
some  of  them,"  says  the  other. 

"  Is  it  Captain  Batts  you  mean?  "  asked  Harry. 

"  He  is  no  favourite  of  mine,  I  own ;  he  bore  a  ras- 
cally reputation  when  he  was  in  the  army,  and  I  doubt 
has  not  mended  it  since  he  was  turned  out.  You  cer- 
tainly might  find  a  better  friend  than  Captain  Batts. 
Pardon  the  freedom  which  I  take  in  saying  so,"  says 
Mr.  Wolfe,  grimly. 

"  Friend !  he  is  no  friend :  he  onlv  teaches  me  to 
play  tennis:  he  is  hand-in-glove  with  my  lord,  and  all 
the  people  of  fashion  here  who  play." 

"  I  am  not  a  man  of  fashion,"  says  Mr.  Wolfe. 

"  My  dear  Colonel,  what  is  the  matter?  Have  I  an- 
gered you  in  any  way?  You  speak  almost  as  if  I  had, 
and  I  am  not  conscious  of  having  done  anything  to  for- 
feit your  regard,"  said  Mr.  Warrington. 

"  I  will  be  free  with  you,  Mr.  Warrington,"  said  the 
Colonel,  gravely,  "  and  tell  you  with  frankness  that  I 
don't  like  some  of  your  friends." 

*'  Why,  sure,  they  are  men  of  the  first  rank  and  fash- 
ion in  England,"  cries  Harry,  not  choosing  to  be  of- 
fended with  his  companion's  bluntness. 

"  Exact]}'!  They  are  men  of  too  high  rank  and  too 
great  fashion  for  a  hard-working  poor  soldier  like  me; 
and  if  you  continue  to  live  with  such,  believe  me,  you  will 
find  numbers  of  us  humdrum  people  can't  afford  to  keep 
such  company.  I  am  here,  Mr.  Warrington,  paying  my 
addresses  to  an  honourable  lady.     I  met  you  yesterday 


3G8  THE  VIRGINIANS 

openly  walking  with  a  French  ballet-dancer,  and  you 
took  off  j'oiir  hat.  I  must  frankly  tell  you  that  I  had 
rather  you  would  not  take  off  your  hat  when  you  go 
out  in  such  company." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Warrington,  growing  very  red,  "  do 
you  mean  that  I  am  to  forego  the  honour  of  Colonel 
Wolfe's  acquaintance  altogether?  " 

"  I  certainly  shall  request  you  to  do  so  when  you  are 
in  company  with  that  person,"  said  Colonel  Wolfe, 
angrily ;  but  he  used  a  word  not  to  be  written  at  present, 
though  Shakspeare  puts  it  in  the  mouth  of  Othello. 

"  Great  heavens!  what  a  shame  it  is  to  speak  so  of  any 
woman!  "  cries  Mr.  Warrington.  "  How  dare  any  man 
say  that  that  poor  creature  is  not  honest?  " 

"  You  ought  to  know  best,  sir,"  says  the  other,  look- 
ing at  Harry  with  some  surprise,  "  or  the  world  belies 
j'ou  very  much." 

"  What  ought  I  to  know  best?  I  see  a  poor  little 
French  dancer  who  is  come  hither  with  her  mother,  and 
is  ordered  by  the  doctors  to  drink  the  waters.  I  know 
that  a  person  of  my  rank  in  life  does  not  ordinarily 
keep  company  with  people  of  hers;  but  really.  Colonel 
Wolfe,  are  you  so  squeamish?  Have  I  not  heard  you 
say  that  you  did  not  value  birth,  and  that  all  honest  peo- 
ple ought  to  be  equal  ?  Why  should  I  not  give  this  little 
unprotected  woman  my  arm?  there  are  scarce  half-a- 
dozen  people  here  who  can  speak  a  word  of  her  language. 
I  can  talk  a  little  French,  and  she  is  welcome  to  it ;  and 
if  Colonel  Wolfe  does  not  choose  to  touch  his  hat  to  me, 
when  I  am  walking  with  her,  by  George!  he  maj^  leave 
it  alone,"  cried  Harry,  flushing  vip. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say,"  says  Mr.  Wolfe,  eyeing 
him,  "  that  you  don't  know  the  woman's  character?  " 


THE  VIRGINIANS  369 

"  Of  course,  sir,  she  is  a  dancer,  and,  I  suppose,  no 
better  or  worse  than  her  neighbours.  But  I  mean  to 
say  that,  had  she  been  a  duchess,  or  your  grandmother, 
'I  couldn't  have  respected  her  more." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  tliat  you  did  not  win  her  at 
dice,  from  Lord  March." 

"At  what!" 

"  At  dice,  from  Lord  March.  Everybody  knows  the 
story.  Not  a  person  at  the  Wells  is  ignorant  of  it.  I 
heard  it  but  now,  in  the  company  of  that  good  old  Mr. 
Richardson,  and  the  ladies  were  saying  that  you  would 
be  a  character  for  a  colonial  Lovelace." 

"  What  on  earth  else  have  they  said  about  me?  "  asked 
Harry  Warrington;  and  such  stories  as  he  knew  the 
Colonel  told.  The  most  alarming  accounts  of  his  own 
wickedness  and  profligacy  were  laid  before  him.  He 
was  a  corrupter  of  virtue,  an  habitual  drunkard  and 
gamester,  a  notorious  blasphemer  and  freethinker,  a 
fitting  companion  for  my  Lord  March,  finally,  and  the 
company  into  whose  society  he  had  fallen.  "  I  tell  you 
these  things,"  said  Mr.  Wolfe,  "  because  it  is  fair  that 
you  should  know  what  is  said  of  you,  and  because  I 
do  heartily  believe,  from  your  manner  of  meeting  the 
last  charge  brought  against  you,  that  you  are  innocent 
on  most  of  the  other  counts.  I  feel,  Mr.  Warrington, 
that  I,  for  one,  have  been  doing  you  a  wrong;  and 
sincerely  ask  you  to  pardon  me." 

Of  course,  Harry  was  eager  to  accept  itis  friend's 
apology,  and  they  shook  hands  with  sincere  cordiality 
this  time.  In  respect  of  most  of  the  charges  brought 
against  him,  Harry  rebutted  them  easily  enough:  as 
for  the  play,  he  owned  to  it.  He  thouglit  that  a  gentle- 
man should  not  refuse  a  fair  challenge  from  other  gen- 


370  THE   VIRGINIANS 

tlemen,  if  his  means  allowed  him:  and  he  never  would 
play  beyond  his  means.  After  winning  considerably  at 
first,  he  could- afford  to  play  large  stakes,  for  he  was 
playing  with  other  people's  money.  Play,  he  thought, 
was  fair,— it  certainly  was  pleasant.  Why,  did  not  all 
England,  excej)t  the  Methodists,  play?  Had  he  not 
seen  the  best  company  at  the  Wells  over  the  cards— his 
aunt  amongst  them? 

Mr.  Wolfe  made  no  immediate  comment  upon 
Harry's  opinion  as  to  the  persons  who  formed  the  best 
company  at  the  Wells,  but  he  frankly  talked  with  the 
young  man,  whose  own  frankness  had  won  him,  and 
warned  him  that  the  life  he  was  leading  might  be  the 
pleasantest,  but  surely  was  not  the  most  profitable  of 
lives.  "  It  can't  be,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  that  a  man 
is  to  pass  his  days  at  horse-racing  and  tennis,  and  his 
nights  carousing  or  at  cards.  Sure  every  man  was  made 
to  do  some  work ;  and  a  gentleman,  if  he  has  none,  must 
make  some.  Do  you  know  the  laws  of  your  country, 
Mr.  Warrington?  Being  a  great  proprietor,  you  will 
doubtless  one  day  be  a  magistrate  at  home.  Have 
you  travelled  over  the  country,  and  made  yourself  ac- 
quainted with  its  trades  and  manufactures?  These  are 
fit  things  for  a  gentleman  to  study,  and  may  occupy  him 
as  well  as  a  cockfight  or  a  cricket-match.  Do  you  know 
anything  of  our  profession?  That,  at  least,  you  will 
allow  is  a  noble  one,  and,  believe  me,  there  is  plenty  in 
it  to  learn,  and  suited,  I  should  think,  to  you.  I  speak 
of  it  rather  than  of  books  and  the  learned  professions, 
because,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  your  genius  does  not 
lie  that  way.  But  honour  is  the  aim  of  life,"  cried  Mr. 
Wolfe,  "  and  every  man  can  serve  his  country  one  way 
or  the  other.     Be  sure,  sir,  that  idle  bread  is  the  most 


THE   VIRGINIANS  371 

dangerous  of  all  that  is  eaten;  that  cards  and  pleasure 
may  be  taken  by  way  of  pastime  after  work,  but  not 
instead  of  work,  and  all  day.  And  do  you  know,  Mr. 
Warrington,  instead  of  being  the  Fortunate  Youth, 
as  all  the  world  calls  you,  I  think  you  are  rather  War- 
rington the  Unlucky,  for  you  are  followed  by  daily  idle- 
ness, daily  flattery,  daily  temptation,  and  the  Lord,  I 
say,  send  you  a  good  deliverance  out  of  your  good  for- 
tune." 

Harry  did  not  like  to  tell  his  aunt  that  afternoon  why 
it  was  he  looked  so  grave.  He  thought  he  would  not 
drink,  but  there  were  some  jolly  fellows  at  the  ordinary 
who  passed  the  bottle  round ;  and  he  meant  not  to  play  in 
the  evening,  but  a  fourth  was  wanted  at  his  aunt's  table, 
and  how  could  he  resist?  He  was  the  old  lady's  partner 
several  times  during  the  night,  and  he  had  Somebody's 
own  luck  to  be  sure;  and  once  more  he  saw  the  dawn, 
and  feasted  on  chickens  and  champagne  at  sunrise. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


IN    WHICH    HARRY    CONTINUES   TO   ENJOY    OTIUM 

SINE   DIGNITATE 

HILST  there 
were  card-play- 
ers enough  to 
meet  her  at  her 
lodgings  and 

the  assembly- 
rooms,  JNIadame 
de  Bernstein  re- 
mained pretty 
contentedly  at 
the  Wells,  scold- 
ing her  niece, 
and  playing  her 
rubber.  At  Har- 
ry's age  almost 
all  places  are 
pleasant,  where  you  can  have  lively  company,  fresh  air, 
and  your  share  of  sj)ort  and  diversion.  Even  all  plea- 
sure is  pleasant  at  twenty.  We  go  out  to  meet  it  with 
alacrity,  speculate  upon  its  coming,  and  when  its  visit 
is  announced,  count  the  days  until  it  and  we  shall  come 
together.  How  very  gently  and  coolly  we  regard  it 
towards  the  close  of  Life's  long  season!  Madam,  don't 
you  recollect  your  first  ball ;  and  does  not  your  memory 
stray  towards  that  happy  j^ast,  sometimes,  as  you  sit 

372 


Preaching  and  Practice 


THE   VIRGINIANS  373 

ornamenting  the  wall  whilst  your  daughters  are  dan- 
cing? I,  for  my  part,  can  remember  when  I  thought  it 
?-  was  delightful  to  walk  three  miles  and  back  in  the  coun- 
try to  dine  with  old  Captain  Jones.  Fancy  liking  to 
walk  three  miles,  now,  to  dine  with  Jones  and  drink  his 
half -pay  port!  No  doubt  it  was  bought  from  the  little 
countrv-town  wine-merchant,  and  cost  but  a  small  sum ; 
but  'twas  offered  with  a  kindly  welcome  and  youth  gave 
it  a  flavour  which  no  age  of  wine  or  man  can  impart 
to  it  now-a-daj^s.  Vioci7iius  nuper.  I  am  not  disposed 
to  look  so  severely  upon  young  Harry's  conduct  and 
idleness,  as  his  friend  the  stern  Colonel  of  the  Twen- 
tieth Regiment.  O  blessed  Idleness!  Divine  lazy 
Nymph!  Reach  me  a  novel  as  I  lie  in  my  dressing- 
gown  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon;  compound  a 
sherry-cobbler  for  me,  and  bring  me  a  cigar!  Dear 
slatternly,  smiling  Enchantress!  They  may  assail  thee 
with  bad  names — swear  thy  character  away,  and  call 
thee  the  Mother  of  Evil ;  but,  for  all  that,  thou  art  the 
best  company  in  the  world ! 

My  Lord  of  March  went  away  to  the  North ;  and  my 
Lord  Chesterfield,  finding  the  Tunbridge  waters  did  no 
good  to  his  deafness,  returned  to  his  solitude  at  Black- 
heath  ;  but  other  gentlemen  remained  to  sport  and  take 
their  pleasure,  and  Mr.  Warrington  had  quite  enough 
of  companions  at  his  ordinary  at  the  "  White  Horse." 
He  soon  learned  to  order  a  French  dinner  as  well  as 
the  best  man  of  fashion  out  of  St.  James's;  could  talk 
to  Monsieur  Barbeau,  in  Monsieur  B.'s  native  language, 
much  more  fluently  than  most  other  folks,  —  discovered 
a  very  elegant  and  decided  taste  in  wines,  and  could  dis- 
tinguish between  Clos  Vougeot  and  Romance  with  re- 
markable skill.    He  was  the  young  King  of  the  Wells, 


374  THE  VIRGINIANS 

of  which  the  general  frequenters  were  easy-going  men 
of  the  world,  who  were  by  no  means  shocked  at  that 
reputation  for  gallantry  and  extravagance  which  Harry 
had  got,  and  which  had  so  frightened  Mr.  Wolfe. 

Though  our  Virginian  lived  amongst  the  revellers, 
and  swam  and  sported  in  the  same  waters  with  the  loose 
fish,  the  boy  had  a  natural  shrewdness  and  honesty  which 
kept  him  clear  of  the  snares  and  baits  which  are  com- 
monly set  for  the  unwary.  He  made  very  few  foolish 
bets  with  the  jolly  idle  fellows  round  about  him,  and  the 
oldest  hands  found  it  difficult  to  take  him  in.  He  en- 
gaged in  games  out-doors  and  in,  because  he  had  a 
natural  skill  and  aptitude  for  them,  and  was  good  to 
hold  almost  any  match  with  any  fair  competitor.  He 
was  scrupulous  to  play  only  with  those  gentlemen  whom 
he  knew,  and  always  to  settle  his  own  debts  on  the 
spot.  He  would  have  made  but  a  very  poor  figure  at  a 
college  examination ;  though  he  possessed  prudence  and 
fidelity,  keen,  shrewd  perception,  great  generosity,  and 
dauntless  personal  courage. 

And  he  was  not  without  occasions  for  showing  of 
what  stuff  he  was  made.  For  instance,  when  that  un- 
happy little  Cattarina,  who  had  brought  him  into  so 
much  trouble,  carried  her  importunities  beyond  the 
mark  at  which  Harry  thought  his  generosity  should 
stop;  he  withdrew  from  the  advances  of  the  Opera- 
House  siren  with  perfect  coolness  and  skill,  leaving  her 
to  exercise  her  blandishments  upon  some  more  easy 
victim.  In  vain  the  mermaid's  hysterical  mother  waited 
upon  Harry,  and  vowed  that  a  cruel  bailiff  had  seized 
all  her  daughter's  goods  for  debt,  and  that  her  venerable 
father  was  at  present  languishing  in  a  London  gaol. 
Harry  declared  that  between  himself  and  the  bailiff 


•^ 


THE   VIRGINIANS  375 

there  could  be  no  dealings,  and  that  because  he  had  had 
the  good  fortune  to  become  known  to  Mademoiselle 
Cattarina,  and  to  gratify  her  caprices  by  presenting 
her  with  various  trinkets  and  knickknacks  for  which  she 
had  a  fancy,  he  was  not  bound  to  pay  the  past  debts 
of  her  f amity,  and  must  decline  being  bail  for  her  papa 
in  London,  or  settling  her  outstanding  accounts  at  Tun- 
bridge.  The  Cattarina's  mother  first  called  him  a  mon- 
ster and  an  ingrate,  and  then  asked  him,  with  a  veteran 
smirk,  why  he  did  not  take  pay  for  the  services  he  had 
rendered  to  the  young  person?  At  first,  Mr.  Warring- 
ton could  not  understand  what  the  nature  of  the  pay- 
ment might  be:  but  when  that  matter  was  explained 
by  the  old  woman,  the  simple  lad  rose  up  in  horror,  to 
think  that  a  woman  should  traffic  in  her  child's  dishon- 
our, told  her  that  he  came  from  a  country  where  the  very 
savages  would  recoil  from  such  a  bargain;  and,  having 
bowed  the  old  lady  ceremoniously  to  the  door,  ordered 
Gumbo  to  mark  her  well,  and  never  admit  her  to  his 
lodgings  again.  No  doubt  she  retired  breathing  ven- 
geance against  the  Iroquois:  no  Turk  or  Persian,  she 
declared,  would  treat  a  lad}^  so :  and  she  and  her  daugh- 
ter retreated  to  London  as  soon  as  their  anxious  land- 
lord would  let  them.  Then  Harry  had  his  perils  of 
gaming,  as  well  as  his  perils  of  gallantry.  A  man  who 
plays  at  bowls,  as  the  phrase  is,  must  expect  to  meet  with 
rubbers.  After  dinner  at  the  ordinary,  having  declined 
to  play  picquet  any  further  with  Captain  Batts,  and 
being  rouglily  asked  his  reason  for  refusing,  Harry 
fairly  told  the  Captain  that  he  only  played  with  gentle- 
men who  paid,  like  himself:  but  expressed  himself  so 
ready  to  satisfy  Mr.  l^atts,  as  soon  as  their  outstanding 
little  account  was  settled,  that  the  Captain  declared  him- 


376  THE   VIRGINIANS 

self  satisfied  d'avance,  and  straightway  left  the  Wells 
without  paying  Harry  or  any  other  creditor.  Also  he 
had  an  occasion  to  show  his  spirit  by  beating  a  chairman 
who  was  rude  to  old  Miss  Whiffler  one  evening  as  she 
was  going  to  the  assembly:  and  finding  that  the 
calumn}^  regarding  himself  and  that  unlucky  opera- 
dancer  was  repeated  by  Mr.  Hector  Buckler,  one  of 
the  fiercest  frequenters  of  the  Wells,  Mr.  Warrington 
stepped  up  to  Mr.  Buckler  in  the  pump-room,  where 
the  latter  was  regaling  a  number  of  water-drinkers  with 
the  very  calumny,  and  publicly  informed  Mr.  Buckler 
that  the  story  was  a  falsehood,  and  that  he  should  hold 
any  person  accountable  to  himself  who  henceforth  ut- 
tered it.  So  that  though  our  friend,  being  at  Rome, 
certainly  did  as  Rome  did,  yet  he  showed  himself  to 
be  a  valorous  and  worthy  Roman;  and,  hurlant  avec 
les  loups,  was  acknowledged  by  Mr.  Wolfe  himself  to  be 
as  brave  as  the  best  of  the  wolves. 

If  that  officer  had  told  Colonel  Lambert  the  stories 
which  had  given  the  latter  so  much  pain,  we  may  be 
sure  that  when  Mr.  Wolfe  found  his  young  friend  was 
innocent,  he  took  the  first  opportunity  to  withdraw  the 
odious  charges  against  him.  And  there  was  joy  among 
the  Lamberts,  in  consequence  of  the  lad's  acquittal — 
something,  doubtless,  of  that  pleasure,  which  is  felt  by 
higher  natures  than  ours,  at  the  recovery  of  sinners. 
Never  had  the  little  family  been  so  happy — no,  not  even 
when  they  got  the  news  of  Brother  Tom  winning  his 
scholarship— as  when  Colonel  Wolfe  rode  over  with  the 
account  of  the  conversation  which  he  had  with  Harry 
Warrington.  "  Hadst  thou  brought  me  a  regiment, 
James,  I  think  I  should  not  have  been  better  pleased," 
said  Mr.  Lambert.    Mrs.  Lambert  called  to  her  daugh- 


THE   VIRGINIANS  377 

ters  who  were  in  the  garden,  and  kissed  them  both  when 
they  came  in,  and  cried  out  the  good  news  to  them. 
^-  Hetty  jumped  for  joy,  and  Theo  performed  some  un- 
commonly brilliant  operations  upon  the  harpsichord  that 
night;  and  when  Dr.  Boyle  came  in  for  his  backgam- 
mon, he  could  not,  at  first,  account  for  the  illumination 
in  all  their  faces,  until  the  three  ladies,  in  a  happy  chorus, 
told  him  how  right  he  had  been  in  his  sermon,  and  how 
dreadfully  they  had  wronged  that  poor  dear,  good 
young  JNIr.  Warrington. 

"  What  shall  we  do,  my  dear?  "  says  the  Colonel  to 
his  wife.  "  The  hay  is  in,  the  corn  won't  be  cut  for  a 
fortnight,  — the  horses  have  nothing  to  do.  Suppose 
we  .  .  ."  And  here  he  leans  over  the  table  and  whispers 
in  her  ear. 

"My  dearest  Martin!  The  very  thing!"  cries  Mrs. 
Lambert,  taking  her  husband's  hand  and  pressing  it. 

"  What's  the  very  thing,  mother?  "  cries  young  Char- 
ley, who  is  home  for  his  Bartlemytide  holidays. 

"  The  very  thing  is  to  go  to  supper.  Come,  Doctor! 
We  will  have  a  bottle  of  wine  to-night,  and  drink  re- 
pentance to  all  who  think  evil." 

"Amen,"  says  the  Doctor;  "with  all  my  heart!" 
And  with  this  the  worthy  family  went  to  their  supper. 


CHAPTER   XXX 


CONTAINS   A   LETTER   TO   VIRGINIA 

|AVING   rej^aired    one   day   to 
his    accustomed    dinner    at 
the  "White  Horse"  ordi- 
nary, Mr.  Warrington  was 
pleased  to  see  amongst  the 
faces   round   the   table   the 
jolly  good-looking  counte- 
nance of  Parson  Sampson, 
who  was  regaling  the  com- 
pany, when  Henry  entered, 
with  stories  and  hons  mots, 
which  kept  them  in  roars  of 
laughter.     Though  he  had 
not  been  in  London  for  some  months,  the  Parson  had 
the  latest  London  news,  or  what  passed  for  such  with 
the  folks  at  the  ordinary :   what  was  doing  in  the  King's 
house  at  Kensington;    and  what  in  the  Duke's  in  Pall 
Mall:   how  Mr.  Byng  was  behaving  in  prison,  and  who 
came  to  him:    what  were  the  odds  at  Newmarket,  and 
who  was  the  last  reigning  toast  in  Covent  Garden;— 
the  jolly  Chaplain  could  give  the  company  news  upon 
all  these  points,— news  that  might  not  be  very  accurate 
indeed,  but  was  as  good  as  if  it  were  for  the  country 
gentlemen  who  heard  it.     For  suppose  that  my  Lord 
Viscount  Squanderfield  was  ruining  himself  for  Mrs, 
Polly,  and  Sampson  called  her  Mrs.  Lucy?  that  it  was 

378 


•^' 


THE   VIRGINIANS  379 

Lady  Jane  who  was  in  love  with  the  actor,  and  not  Lady 
]Mary?  that  it  was  Harry  Hilton,  of  the  Horse  Grena- 
diers, who  had  the  quarrel  with  Chevalier  Solingen,  at 
JNIarybone  Garden,  and  not  Tommy  Ruffler,  of  the  Foot 
Guards?  The  names  and  dates  did  not  matter  much. 
Provided  the  stories  were  lively  and  wicked,  their  cor- 
rectness was  of  no  great  importance ;  and  Mr.  Sampson 
laughed  and  chattered  away  amongst  his  country  gen- 
tlemen, charmed  them  w^ith  his  spirits  and  talk,  and 
drank  his  share  of  one  bottle  after  another,  for  which  his 
delighted  auditory  persisted  in  calling.  A  hundred 
years  ago,  the  Abbe  Parson,  the  clergyman  who  fre- 
quented the  theatre,  the  tavern,  the  race-coiu'se,  the 
world  of  fasliion,  was  no  uncommon  character  in  Eng- 
lish society:  his  voice  might  be  heard  the  loudest  in  the 
hunting-field:  he  could  sing  the  j oiliest  song  at  the 
"  Rose  "  or  the  "  Bedford  Head,"  after  the  play  was 
over  at  Covent  Garden,  and  could  call  a  main  as  well 
as  any  at  the  gaming-table. 

It  may  have  been  modesty,  or  it  may  have  been  claret, 
which  caused  his  reverence's  rosy  face  to  redden  deeper, 
but  when  he  saw  ]\Ir.  Warrington  enter,  he  whispered 
"  Maxima  debetur  "  to  the  laughing  country  squire  who 
sat  next  him  in  his  drab  coat  and  gold-laced  red  waist- 
coat, and  rose  up  from  his  chair  and  ran  —  nay,  stumbled 
forward — in  his  haste  to  greet  the  Virginian:  "  My  dear 
sir,  my  very  dear  sir,  my  conqueror  of  spades,  and  clubs, 
and  hearts  too,  I  am  delighted  to  see  your  honour  look- 
ing so  fresh  and  well,"  cries  the  Cliaplain. 

Harry  returned  the  clergyman's  greeting  with  great 
pleasure:  he  was  glad  to  see  ]\Ir.  Sampson;  he  could 
also  justly  compliment  his  reverence  upon  his  cheerful 
looks  and  rosy  gills. 


380  THE  VIRGINIANS 

The  squire  in  the  drab  coat  knew  INIr.  Warrington; 
he  made  a  place  beside  himself;  he  called  out  to  the 
parson  to  return  to  his  seat  on  the  other  side,  and  to 
continue  his  story  about  Lord  Ogle  and  the  grocer's 
wife  in —  Where  he  did  not  say,  for  his  sentence  was 
interrupted  by  a  shout  and  an  oath  addressed  to  the  par- 
son for  treading  on  his  gouty  toe. 

The  Chaplain  asked  pardon,  hurriedly  turned  round 
to  Mr.  Warrington,  and  informed  him,  and  the  rest  of 
the  company  indeed,  that  my  Lord  Castlewood  sent  his 
affectionate  remembrances  to  his  cousin,  and  had  given 
special  orders  to  him  (Mr.  Sampson)  to  come  to  Tun- 
bridge  Wells  and  look  after  the  young  gentleman's 
morals;  that  my  Lady  Viscountess  and  my  Lady 
Fanny  were  gone  to  Harrogate  for  the  waters;  that 
Mr.  Will  had  won  his  money  at  Newmarket,  and  was 
going  on  a  visit  to  my  Lord  Duke;  that  Molly  the 
housemaid  was  crying  her  eyes  out  about  Gumbo,  Mr. 
Warrington's  valet; — in  fine,  all  the  news  of  Castle- 
wood and  its  neighbourhood.  Mr.  Warrington  was  be- 
loved by  all  the  country  round,  Mr.  Sampson  told  the 
company,  managing  to  introduce  the  names  of  some  per- 
sons of  the  ver}^  highest  rank  into  his  discourse.  "  All 
Hampshire  had  heard  of  his  successes  at  Tunbridge, 
successes  of  every  kind,"  says  Mr.  Sampson,  looking 
particularly  arch ;  my  lord  hoped,  their  ladyships  hoped, 
Harry  would  not  be  spoilt  for  his  quiet  Hampshire 
home. 

The  guests  dropped  off  one  by  one,  leaving  the  young 
Virginian  to  his  bottle  of  wine  and  the  chaplain. 

"  Though  I  have  had  plenty,"  says  the  jolly  chap- 
lain, "  that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  have  plenty 
more,"  and  he  drank  toast  after  toast,  and  bumper  after 


THE  VIRGINIANS  381 

bumper,  to  the  amusement  of  Harry,  who  always  en- 
joyed his  society. 
<^.  B}^  the  time  when  Sampson  had  had  his  "  plenty 
more,"  Harry,  too,  was  become  specially  generous, 
warm-hearted,  and  friendly.  A  lodging? — why  should 
Mr.  Sampson  go  to  the  expense  of  an  inn,  when  there 
was  a  room  at  Harry's  quarters?  The  Chaplain's  trunk 
was  ordered  thither,  Gumbo  was  bidden  to  make 
Mr.  Sampson  comfortable — most  comfortable;  nothing 
would  satisfy  Mr.  Warrington  but  that  Sampson  should 
go  down  to  his  stables  and  see  his  horses :  he  had  several 
horses  now ;  and  when  at  the  stable  Sampson  recognized 
his  own  horse,  which  Harry  had  won  from  him;  and 
the  fond  beast  whinnied  with  pleasure,  and  rubbed  his 
nose  against  his  old  master's  coat.  Harry  rapped  out 
a  brisk  energetic  expression  or  two,  and  vowed  by  Jupi- 
ter that  Sampson  should  have  his  old  horse  back  again: 
he  would  give  him  to  Sampson,  that  he  would;  a  gift 
which  the  Chaplain  accepted  by  seizing  Harry's  hand, 
and  blessing  him, — by  flinging  his  arms  round  the 
horse's  neck,  and  weeping  for  joy  there,  weeping  tears 
of  Bordeaux  and  gratitude.  Arm-in-arm  the  friends 
walked  to  Madame  Bernstein's  from  the  stable,  of 
which  they  brought  the  odours  into  her  ladyship's  apart- 
ment. Their  flushed  cheeks  and  brightened  eyes  showed 
what  their  amusement  had  been.  Many  gentlemen's 
cheeks  were  in  the  habit  of  flushing  in  those  days,  and 
from  the  same  cause. 

Madame  Bernstein  received  her  nephew's  chaplain 
kindly  enough.  The  old  lady  relished  Sampson's  broad 
jokes  and  rattling  talk  from  time  to  time,  as  she  liked 
a  highly  spiced  dish  or  a  new  entree  composed  by  her 
cook,  upon  its  two  or  three  first  appearances.    The  only 


382  THE   VIRGINIANS 

amusement  of  which  she  did  not  grow  tired,  she  owned, 
was  cards.  "  The  cards  don't  cheat,"  she  used  to  say. 
"  A  bad  hand  tells  you  the  truth  to  your  face:  and  there 
is  nothing  so  flattering  in  the  world  as  a  good  suite  of 
trumps."  And  when  she  was  in  a  good  humour,  and 
sitting  down  to  her  favourite  pastime,  she  would  laugh- 
ingly bid  her  nephew's  chaplain  say  grace  before  the 
meal.  Honest  Sampson  did  not  at  first  care  to  take 
a  hand  at  Tunbridge  Wells.  Her  ladyship's  play  was 
too  high  for  him,  he  would  own,  slapping  his  pocket 
with  a  comical  piteous  look,  and  its  contents  had  already 
been  handed  over  to  the  fortunate  youth  at  Castlewood. 
Like  most  persons  of  her  age  and  indeed  her  sex,  ]Ma- 
dame  Bernstein  was  not  prodigal  of  money.  I  suppose 
it  must  have  been  from  Harry  Warrington,  whose  heart 
was  overflowing  with  generosity  as  his  purse  with 
guineas,  that  the  Chaplain  procured  a  small  stock  of 
ready  coin,  with  which  he  was  presently  enabled  to  ap- 
pear at  the  card-table. 

Our  young  gentleman  welcomed  Mr.  Sampson  to  his 
coin,  as  to  all  the  rest  of  the  good  things  which  he  had 
gathered  about  him.  'Twas  surprising  how  quickly  the 
young  Virginian  adapted  himself  to  the  habits  of  life  of 
the  folks  amongst  whom  he  lived.  His  suits  were  still 
black,  but  of  the  finest  cut  and  quality.  "  With  a  star 
and  ribbon,  and  his  stocking  down,  and  his  hair  over 
his  shoulder,  he  would  make  a  pretty  Hamlet,"  said  the 
gay  old  Duchess  Queensberry.  "  And  I  make  no  doubt 
he  has  been  the  death  of  a  dozen  Ophelias  already,  here 
and  amongst  the  Indians,"  she  added,  thinking  not  at  all 
the  worse  of  Harry  for  his  supposed  successes  among 
the  fair.  Harry's  lace  and  linen  were  as  fine  as  his  aunt 
could  desire.  He  purchased  fine  shaving-plate  of  the 
toy-shop  women,  and  a  couple  of  magnificent  brocade 


^. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  383 

bed-gowns,  in  which  his  worship  lolled  at  ease,  and 
sipped  his  chocolate  of  a  morning.  He  had  swords  and 
walking-canes,  and  French  watches  with  painted  backs 
and  diamond  settings,  and  snuff-boxes  enamelled  by 
artists  of  the  same  cunning  nation.  He  had  a  levee  of 
grooms,  jockeys,  tradesmen,  daily  waiting  in  his  ante- 
room, and  admitted  one  by  one  to  him  and  Parson 
Sampson,  over  his  chocolate,  by  Gumbo  the  groom  of 
the  chambers.  We  have  no  account  of  the  number  of 
men  whom  INIr.  Gumbo  now  had  under  him.  Certain 
it  is  that  no  single  negro  could  have  taken  care  of  all 
the  fine  things  which  Mr.  Warrington  now  possessed, 
let  alone  the  horses  and  the  post-chaise  which  his  honour 
had  bought.  Also  Harry  instructed  himself  in  the  arts 
which  became  a  gentleman  in  those  days.  A  French 
fencing-master,  and  a  dancing-master  of  the  same  na- 
tion, resided  at  Tunbridge  during  that  season  when 
Harry  made  his  appearance:  these  men  of  science  the 
young  Virginian  sedulously  frequented,  and  acquired 
considerable  skill  and  grace  in  the  peaceful  and  warlike 
accomplishments  which  they  taught.  Ere  many  weeks 
were  over  he  could  handle  the  foils  against  his  master 
or  any  frequenter  of  the  fencing-school,  —  and,  with  a 
sigh,  I^ady  Maria  (who  danced  very  elegantly  herself) 
owned  that  there  was  no  gentleman  at  Court  who  could 
walk  a  minuet  more  gracefully  tlian  Mr.  Warrington. 
As  for  riding,  tliough  INIr.  Warrington  took  a  few  les- 
sons on  tlie  great  horse  from  a  riding-master  who  came 
to  Tunbridge,  he  declared  that  their  own  Virginian  man- 
ner was  well  enough  for  him,  and  that  he  saw  no  one 
amongst  the  fine  folks  and  the  jockeys  wlio  could  ride 
])ettcr  tlian  his  friend  Colonel  George  Washington  of 
Mount  Vernon. 

The   obsequious    Sampson   found   himself   in   better 


384  THE   VIRGINIANS 

quarters  than  he  had  enjoyed  for  ever  so  long  a  time. 
He  knew  a  great  deal  of  the  world,  and  told  a  great 
deal  more,  and  Harry  was  delighted  with  his  stories,  real 
or  fancied.  The  man  of  twenty  looks  up  to  the  man 
of  thirty,  admires  the  latter's  old  jokes,  stale  puns,  and 
tarnished  anecdotes,  that  are  slopped  with  the  wine  of 
a  hundred  dinner-tahles.  Sampson's  town  and  college 
pleasantries  were  all  new  and  charming  to  the  young 
Virginian.  A  hundred  years  ago,  — no  douht  there  are 
no  such  people  left  in  the  world  now, — there  used  to  be 
grown  men  in  London  who  loved  to  consort  with  fash- 
ionable youths  entering  life;  to  tickle  their  young  fan- 
cies with  merry  stories;  to  act  as  Covent  Garden  Men- 
tors and  masters  of  ceremonies  at  the  Round-house;  to 
accompany  lads  to  the  gaming-table,  and  perhaps  have 
an  understanding  with  the  punters;  to  drink  lemonade 
to  Master  Hopeful's  Burgundy,  and  to  stagger  into  the 
streets  with  perfectly  cool  heads  when  my  young  lord 
reeled  out  to  beat  the  watch.  Of  this,  no  doubt  extinct 
race,  Mr.  Sampson  was  a  specimen:  and  a  great  com- 
fort it  is  to  think  (to  those  who  choose  to  believe  the 
statement)  that  in  Queen  Victoria's  reign  there  are  no 
flatterers  left,  such  as  existed  in  the  reign  of  her  royal 
great-grandfather,  no  parasites  pandering  to  the  follies 
of  young  men;  in  fact,  that  all  the  toads  have  been 
eaten  off  the  face  of  the  island,  (except  one  or  two  that 
are  found  in  stones,  where  they  liave  lain  perdus  these 
hundred  years,)  and  the  toad-eaters  have  perished  for 
lack  of  nourishment. 

With  some  sauce,  as  I  read,  the  above-mentioned  ani- 
mals are  said  to  be  exceedingly  fragrant,  wholesome, 
and  savoury  eating.  Indeed,  no  man  could  look  more 
rosy   and   healthy,   or   flourish   more   cheerfully,   than 


THE  VIRGINIANS  385 

friend  Sampson  upon  the  diet.  He  became  our  young 
friend's  confidential  leader,  and,  from  the  following  let- 
ter, which  is  preserved  in  the  Warrington  correspon- 
dence, it  will  be  seen  that  Mr.  Hairy  not  only  had  dan- 
cing and  fencing-masters,  but  likewise  a  tutor,  chaplain, 
and  secretary: — 

"TO  MRS.  ESMOND  WARRINGTON,  OF  CASTLE- 
WOOD, 

"  AT    HER    HOUSE    AT    RICHMOND,    VIRGINIA. 

"  Mrs.  Bligh's  Lodgings,  Pantiles,  Tunhridge  Wells, 
August  25th,  1756. 

"  Honoured  Madam, — Your  honoured  letter  of  20  June,  per 
Mr.  Trail  of  Bristol,  has  been  forwarded  to  me  duly,  and  I 
have  to  thank  your  goodness  and  kindness  for  the  good  advice 
which  you  are  pleased  to  give  me,  as  also  for  the  remembrances 
of  dear  home,  which  I  shall  love  never  the  worse  for  having  been 
to  the  home  of  our  ancestors  in  England. 

"  I  writ  you  a  letter  by  the  last  monthly  packet,  informing  my 
honoured  mother  of  the  little  accident  I  had  on  the  road  hither, 
and  of  the  kind  friends  who  I  found  and  whom  took  me  in. 
Since  then  I  have  been  profiting  of  the  fine  weather  and  the 
^ood  company  here,  and  have  made  many  friends  among  our 
nobility,  whose  acquaintance  I  am  sure  you  will  not  be  sorry 
that  I  should  make.  Among  their  lordships  I  ma}'  mention  the 
famous  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  late  Ambassador  to  Holland,  and 
Viceroy  of  the  Kingdom  of  Ireland ;  the  Earl  of  March  and 
Ruglcn,  who  will  be  Duke  of  Qucensbcrry  at  the  death  of  his 
Grace;  and  her  Grace  the  Duchess,  a  celebrated  beauty  of  the 
Queen's  time,  when  she  remembers  my  grandj)apa  at  Court. 
These  and  many  more  persons  of  the  first  fashion  attend  my 
aunt's  assemblies,  which  are  the  most  crowded  at  this  crowded 
place.  Also  on  my  way  hither  I  stayed  at  Westcrham,  at  the 
house  of  an  officer,  Lieut. -Gen.  Wolfe,  who  served  with  my  grand- 


386  THE   VIRGINIANS 

father  and  General  Webb  in  the  famous  wars  of  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough.  Mr.  Wolfe  has  a  son,  Lieut. -Col.  James  Wolfe, 
engaged  to  be  married  to  a  beautiful  lady  now  in  this  place, 
Miss  Lowther  of  the  North — and  though  but  30  years  old  he 
is  looked  up  to  as  much  as  any  officer  in  the  whole  army,  and 
hath  served  with  honour  under  his  Ro^^al  Highness  the  Duke 
w^herever  our  arms   have  been  employed. 

"  I  thank  my  honoured  mother  for  announcing  to  me  that  a 
quarter's  allowance  of  £52.10  will  be  paid  me  by  Mr.  Trail.  I 
am  in  no  present  want  of  cash,  and  by  practising  a  rigid  econ- 
omy, which  will  be  necessary  (as  I  do  not  disguise)  for  the 
maintenance  of  horses.  Gumbo,  and  the  equipage  and  apparel 
requisite  for  a  young  gentleman  of  good  family,  hope  to  be  able 
to  maintain  my  credit  without  unduly  trespassing  upon  yours. 
The  linnen  and  clothes  which  I  brought  with  me  will  with  due 
care  last  for  some  years — as  you  say.  'Tis  not  quite  so  fine 
as  worn  here  by  persons  of  fashion,  and  I  may  have  to  purchase 
a  few  very  fine  shirts  for  great  days:  but  those  I  have  are  ex- 
cellent for  daily  wear. 

"  I  am  thankful  that  I  have  been  quite  without  occasion  to  use 
your  excellent  family  pills.  Gumbo  hath  taken  them  with  great 
benefit,  who  grows  fat  and  saucy  upon  English  beef,  ale,  and  air. 
He  sends  his  humble  duty  to  his  mistress,  and  prays  Mrs.  Moun- 
tain to  remember  him  to  all  his  fellow-servants,  especially  Dinah 
and  Lily,  for  whom  he  has  bought  posey-rings  at  Tunbridge 
Fair. 

"  Besides  partaking  of  all  the  pleasures  of  the  place,  I  hope 
my  honoured  mother  will  believe  that  I  have  not  been  unmind- 
ful of  my  education.  I  have  had  masters  in  fencing  and  danc- 
ing, and  my  Lord  Castlewood's  chaplain,  the  Reverend  Mr.  Samp- 
son, having  come  hither  to  drink  the  waters,  has  been  so  good  as 
to  take  a  vacant  room  at  my  lodging.  Mr.  S.  breakfasts  with  me, 
and  we  read  together  of  a  morning — he  saying  that  I  am  not 
quite  such  a  dunce  as  I  used  to  appear  at  home.  We  have  read 
in  Mr.  Rapin's  History,  Dr.  Barrow's  Sermons,  and  for  amuse- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  387 

ment,  Shakspeare,  Mr.  Pope's  Homer,  and  (in  French)  the  trans- 
lation of  an  Arabian  Work  of  Tales,  very  diverting.  Several 
^-  men  of  learning  have  been  staying  here  besides  the  persons  of 
fashion ;  and  amongst  the  former  was  Mr.  Richardson,  the  author 
of  the  famous  books  which  you  and  Mountain  and  my  dearest 
brother  used  to  love  so.  He  was  pleased  when  I  told  him  that 
his  works  were  in  your  closet  in  Virginia,  and  begged  me  to 
convey  his  respectful  compliments  to  my  lady  mother.  Mr.  R. 
is  a  short  fat  man,  with  little  of  the  f,re  of  genius  visible  in  his 
eye  or  person. 

"  My  aunt  and  my  cousin,  the  Lady  Maria,  desire  their  affec- 
tionate compliments  to  you,  and  with  best  regards  for  Mountain, 
to  whom  I  enclose  a  note,  I  am, 

"  Honoured  Madam, 
"  Your  dutiful  Son, 

"  H.  Esmond  Warrington." 

Note  in  Madam  Esmond's  Handwriting. 

"  From  my  son.  Received  October  15  at  Richmond.  Sent  16 
jars  preserved  peaches,  224  lbs.  best  tobacco,  24  finest  hams,  per 
"  Royal  William  "  of  Liverpool,  8  jars  peaches,  12  hams  for  my 
nephew,  the  Rt.  Honourable  the  Earl  of  Castlewood.  4  jars,  6 
hams  for  the  Baroness  Bernstein,  ditto  ditto  for  Mrs.  Lambert  of 
Oakhurst,  Surrey,  and  ^  cwt.  tobacco.  Packet  of  infallible 
Family  Pills  for  Gumbo.  My  Papa's  large  silver-gilt  shoe- 
buckles  for  H.,  and  red  silver-laced  saddle-cloth. 

II.   (enclosed  in  No.  I.) 

"  For  Mrs.  Mountain. 

"  What  do  you  mien,  you  silly  old  Mountain,  by  sending  an 
order  for  your  poor  old  divadcnds  dew  at  Xmas?  I'd  have  you 
to  know  I  don't  want  your  £7.  10,  and  have  toar  your  order  up 
into  1000  hifts:  I've  plenty  of  money.  But  I'm  ahlcaged  to  you 
all  same.    A  kiss  to  Fanny  from  «  Your  loving 

"  Harry." 


888  THE   VIRGINIANS 

Note  in  Madam  Esmond's  Handwritmg. 

"  This  note,  which  I  desired  M.  to  show  to  me,  proves  that  she 
hath  a  good  heart,  and  that  she  wished  to  show  her  gratitude  to 
the  family,  by  giving  up  her  half-yearly  divd.  (on  500L  3  per 
ct. )  to  my  boy.  Hence  I  reprimanded  her  very  slightly  for  dar- . 
ing  to  send  money  to  Mr.  E.  Warrington,  unknown  to  his  mother. 
Note  to  Mountain  not  so  well  spelt  as  letter  to  me. 

"  Mem.  to  write  to  Revd.  Mr.  Sampson  desire  to  know  what 
theolog.  books  he  reads  with  H.  Recommend  Law,  Baxter,  Dre- 
lincourt. — Request  H.  to  say  his  catechism  to  Mr.  S.,  which  he 
has  never  quite  been  able  to  master.  By  next  ship  peaches  (3), 
tobacco  \  cwt.     Hams  for  Mr.  S." 

The  mother  of  the  Virginians  and  her  sons  have  long, 
long  since  passed  away.  So  how  are  we  to  account  for 
the  fact,  that  of  a  couple  of  letters  sent  under  one  en- 
closure and  by  one  packet,  one  should  be  well  spelt,  and 
the  other  not  entirely  orthographical?  Had  Harry  found 
some  wonderful  instructor,  such  as  exists  in  the  present 
lucky  times,  and  who  would  improve  his  writing  in  six 
lessons?  My  view  of  the  case,  after  deliberately  ex- 
amining the  two  notes,  is  this:  No.  1,  in  which  there 
appears  a  trifling  grammatical  slip  ("  the  kind  friends 
who  I  found  and  whom  took  me  in,")  must  have  been 
re-written  from  a  rough  copy  which  had  probably  un- 
dergone the  supervision  of  a  tutor  or  friend.  The  more 
artless  composition,  No.  2,  was  not  referred  to  the 
scholar  who  prepared  No.  1  for  the  maternal  eye,  and 
to  whose  corrections  of  "  who  "  and  "  whom  "  Mr.  War- 
rington did  not  pay  very  close  attention.  Who  knows 
how  he  may  have  been  disturbed?  A  pretty  milliner 
may  have  attracted  Harry's  attention  out  of  window— a 
dancing  bear  with  pipe  and  tabor  may  have  passed  along 


' 


THE   VIRGINIANS  389 

the  common— a  jockej^  come  under  his  windows  to  show 
off  a  horse  there?  There  are  some  days  when  any  of 
us  may  be  ungrammatical  and  speU  ill.  Finally,  sup- 
pose Harry  did  not  care  to  spell  so  elegantly  for  Mrs. 
Mountain  as  for  his  lady-mother,  what  affair  is  that  of 
the  present  biographer,  century,  reader?  And  as  for 
your  objection  that  ^Ir.  Warrington,  in  the  above  com- 
munication to  his  mother,  showed  some  little  hypocrisy 
and  reticence  in  his  dealings  with  that  venerable  person, 
I  dare  say,  young  folks,  you  in  your  time  have  written 
more  than  one  prim  letter  to  your  papas  and  mammas  in 
which  not  quite  all  the  transactions  of  your  lives  were 
narrated,  or  if  narrated,  were  exhibited  in  the  most 
favourable  light  for  yourselves— I  dare  say,  old  folks! 
you,  in  your  time,  were  not  altogether  more  candid. 
There  must  be  a  certain  distance  between  me  and  my 
son  Jacky.  There  must  be  a  respectful,  an  amiable,  a 
virtuous  hypocrisy  between  us.  I  do  not  in  the  least 
wish  that  he  should  treat  me  as  his  equal,  that  he  should 
contradict  me,  take  my  arm-chair,  read  the  newspaper 
first  at  breakfast,  ask  unlimited  friends  to  dine  when  I 
have  a  part}^  of  .my  own,  and  so  forth.  No;  where  there 
is  not  equality,  there  must  be  hypocrisy.  Continue  to  be 
blind  to  my  faidts;  to  hush  still  as  mice  when  I  fall 
asleep  after  dinner;  to  laugh  at  my  old  jokes;  to  ad- 
mire my  sayings;  to  be  astonished  at  the  impudence  of 
those  unbelieving  reviewers;  to  be  dear  filial  humbugs, 
O  my  children!  In  my  castle  I  am  king.  Let  all  my 
royal  household  back  before  me.  'Tis  not  their  natural 
way  of  walking,  I  know :  but  a  decorous,  becoming,  and 
modest  behaviour  highly  agreeable  to  me.  Away  from 
me  they  may  do,  nay,  they  do  do,  what  they  like.  They 
may  jump,  skip,  dance,  trot,  tumble  over  head  and  heels, 


390  THE   VIRGINIANS 

and  kick  about  freely,  when  they  are  out  of  the  presence 
of  my  majesty.  Do  not  then,  my  dear  young  friends, 
be  surprised  at  your  mother  and  aunt  when  they  cry  out, 
"  Oh,  it  was  highly  immoral  and  improper  of  Mr.  War- 
rington to  be  writing  home  humdrum  demure  letters  to 
his  dear  mamma,  when  he  was  playing  all  sorts  of  merry 
pranks!"— but  drop  a  curtsey,  and  say,  "Yes,  dear 
grandmamma,  (or  aunt,  as  may  be,)  it  was  very  wrong 
of  him:  and  I  suppose  you  never  had  your  fun  when 
you  were  young."  Of  course,  she  didn't!  And  the  sun 
never  shone,  and  the  blossoms  never  budded,  and  the 
blood  never  danced,  and  the  fiddles  never  sang,  in  her 
spring-time.  Eh,  Babct!  mon  lait  de  poule  et  moji 
bonnet  de  nuit!  Ho,  Betty!  my  gruel  and  my  slippers! 
And  go,  ye  frisky,  merry  little  souls!  and  dance,  and 
have  your  merry  little  supper  of  cakes  and  ale ! 


^^ 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


THE    BEAR   AND    THE   LEADER 


UR  candid  readers  know 
real  state  of 
i  case  regarding 
larry  Warring- 
ton and  that 
luckless  Cat- 
tarina;  but  a 
number  of 
the  old  ladies 
at  Tunbridge 
Wells  sup- 
posed the  Vir- 
gin] i!n  to  be  as 
dissipated  as  any 
young  English  no- 
bleman of  the  highest 
quality,  and  Madame  de  Bernstein  was  especially  in- 
credulous about  her  nephew's  innocence.  It  was  the 
old  lady's  firm  belief  that  Harry  was  leading  not  only 
a  merry  life  but  a  wicked  one,  and  her  wish  was  father 
to  the  thought  that  the  lad  might  be  no  better  than  his 
neighbours.  An  old  Roman  herself,  she  liked  her 
ne])hew  to  do  as  Rome  did.  All  the  scandal  regarding 
Mr.  Warrington's  Lovelace  adventures  she  eagerly  and 
complacently  accepted.  We  have  seen  how,  on  one  or 
two  occasions,  he  gave  tea  and  music  to  the  c()m])any 
at  the  Wells;  and  he  was  so  gallant  and  amiable  to  the 

391 


392  THE   VIRGINIANS 

ladies  (to  ladies  of  a  much  better  figure  and  charac- 
ter than  the  unfortunate  Cattarina),  that  Madame 
Bernstein  ceased  to  be  disquieted  regarding  the  silly 
love  affair  which  had  had  a  commencement  at  Castle- 
wood,  and  relaxed  in  her  vigilance  over  Lady  Maria. 
Some  folks — many  old  folks — are  too  selfish  to  interest 
themselves  long  about  the  affairs  of  their  neighbours. 
The  Baroness  had  her  trumps  to  think  of,  her  dinners, 
her  twinges  of  rheumatism;  and  her  suspicions  regard- 
ing Maria  and  Harry,  lately  so  lively,  now  dozed,  and 
kept  a  careless,  unobservant  watch.  She  may  have 
thought  that  the  danger  was  over,  or  she  may  have 
ceased  to  care  whether  it  existed  or  not,  or  that  artful 
Maria,  by  her  conduct,  may  have  quite  cajoled,  soothed, 
and  misguided  the  old  Dragon,  to  whose  charge  she  was 
given  over.  At  Maria's  age,  nay,  earlier  indeed,  maid- 
ens have  learnt  to  be  very  sly,  and  at  Madame  Bern- 
stein's time  of  life,  dragons  are  not  so  fierce  and  alert. 
They  cannot  turn  so  readily,  some  of  their  old  teeth 
have  dropped  out,  and  their  eyes  require  more  sleep 
than  they  needed  in  days  when  they  were  more  active, 
venomous,  and  dangerous.  I,  for  my  part,  know  a  few 
female  dragons  de  par  le  Jiionde,  and  as  I  watch  them 
and  remember  what  they  were,  admire  the  softening  in- 
fluence of  years  upon  these  whilom  destroyers  of  man 
and  womankind.  Their  scales  are  so  soft  that  any 
knight  with  a  moderate  power  of  thrust  can  strike 
them:  their  claws,  once  strong  enough  to  tear  out  a 
thousand  eyes,  only  fall  with  a  feeble  pat  that  scarce 
raises  the  skin:  their  tongues,  from  their  toothless  old 
gums,  dart  a  venom  which  is  rather  disagreeable  than 
deadly.  See  them  trailing  their  languid  tails,  and 
crawling  home  to  their  caverns  at  roosting  time!    How 


•^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS  393 

weak  are  their  powers  of  doing  injury!  their  maleficence 
how  feeble !  How  changed  are  they  since  the  brisk  days 
when  their  eyes  shot  wicked  fire;  their  tongue  spat  poi- 
son; their  breath  blasted  reputation;  and  they  gobbled 
up  a  daily  victim  at  least ! 

If  the  good  folks  at  Oakhurst  could  not  resist  the 
testimony  which  w^as  brought  to  them  regarding  Har- 
ry's ill-doings,  why  should  Madame  Bernstein,  who  in 
the  course  of  her  long  days  had  had  more  experience  of 
evil  than  all  the  Oakhurst  family  put  together,  be  less 
credulous  than  they?  Of  course  every  single  old  woman 
of  her  ladyshij)'s  society  believed  eveiy  story  that  was 
told  about  JNIr.  Harry  Warrington's  dissipated  habits, 
and  was  ready  to  believe  as  much  more  ill  of  him  as  you 
please.  When  the  little  dancer  went  back  to  London, 
as  she  did,  it  was  because  that  heartless  Harry  deserted 
her.  He  deserted  her  for  somebody  else,  whose  name 
was  confidently  given, — whose  name! — whose  half- 
dozen  names  the  society  at  Tunbridge  Wells  would 
whisper  about;  where  there  congregated  people  of  all 
ranks  and  degrees,  women  of  fashion,  women  of  recan- 
tation, of  demi-reputation,  of  virtue,  of  no  virtue,  —  all 
mingling  in  the  same  rooms,  dancing  to  the  same  fid- 
dles, drinking  out  of  the  same  glasses  at  the  Wells,  and 
alike  in  search  of  health,  or  society,  or  pleasure.  A 
century  ago,  and  our  ancestors,  the  most  free  or  the  most 
strait-laced,  met  together  at  a  score  of  such  merry  places 
as  that  where  our  present  scene  lies,  and  danced,  and 
frisked,  and  gamed,  and  drank  at  Epsom,  Bath,  Tun- 
bridge, Harrogate,  as  they  do  at  Ilombourg  and  Baden 
now. 

Harry's  bad  reputation  then  comforted  his  old  aunt 
excedingly,  and  eased  her  mind  in  respect  to  the  boy's 


394  THE   VIllGINIANS 

passion  for  Lady  ]Maria.  So  easy  was  she  in  her  mind, 
that  when  the  chaplain  said  he  came  to  escort  her  lady- 
ship home,  JNIadame  Bernstein  did  not  even  care  to  part 
from  her  niece.  She  preferred  rather  to  keep  her  under 
her  eye,  to  talk  to  her  about  her  wicked  young  cousin's 
wild  extravagances,  to  whisper  to  her  that  boys  would 
be  boys,  to  confide  to  ^laria  her  intention  of  getting  a 
proper  wife  for  Harry, — some  one  of  a  suitable  age, — 
some  one  with  a  suitable  fortune, — all  which  pleasantries 
poor  JNIaria  had  to  bear  with  as  much  fortitude  as  she 
could  muster. 

There  lived,  during  the  last  century,  a  certain  French 
duke  and  marquis,  who  distinguished  himself  in  Europe, 
and  America  likewise,  and  has  obliged  posterity  by  leav- 
ing behind  him  a  choice  volume  of  memoirs,  which  the 
gentle  reader  is  specially  warned  not  to  consult.  Hav- 
ing performed  the  part  of  Don  Juan  in  his  own  country, 
in  ours,  and  in  other  parts  of  Europe,  he  has  kindly 
noted  down  the  names  of  many  court-beauties  who  fell 
victims  to  his  powers  of  fascination;  and  very  pleasant 
reading  no  doubt  it  must  be  for  the  grandsons  and  de- 
scendants of  the  fashionable  persons  amongst  whom  our 
brilliant  nobleman  moved,  to  find  the  names  of  their 
ancestresses  adorning  INI.  le  Due's  sprightly  pages,  and 
their  frailties  recorded  by  the  candid  writer  who  caused 
them. 

In  the  course  of  the  peregrinations  of  this  nobleman, 
he  visited  North  America,  and,  as  had  been  his  custom 
in  Europe,  proceeded  straightway  to  fall  in  love.  And 
curious  it  is  to  contrast  the  elegant  refinements  of  Euro- 
pean society,  where,  according  to  INIonseigneur,  he  had 
but  to  lay  seige  to  a  woman  in  order  to  vanquish  her, 
with  the  simple  lives  and  habits  of  the  colonial  folks, 


THE   VIRGINIANS  395 

amongst  whom  this  European  enslaver  of  hearts  did 
not,  it  appears,  make  a  single  conquest.  Had  he  done 
so,  he  would  as  certainly  have  narrated  his  victories  in 
Pennsylvania  and  New  England,  as  he  described  his 
successes  in  this  and  his  own  country.  Travellers  in 
America  have  cried  out  quite  loudly  enough  against  the 
rudeness  and  barbarism  of  Transatlantic  manners;  let 
the  present  writer  give  the  humble  testimony  of  his  ex- 
perience that  the  conversation  of  American  gentlemen 
is  generally  modest,  and,  to  the  best  of  his  belief,  the 
lives  of  the  women  pure. 

We  have  said  that  Mr.  Harry  Warrington  brought 
his  colonial  modesty  along  with  him  to  the  old  country; 
and  though  he  could  not  help  hearing  the  free  talk  of 
the  persons  amongst  whom  he  lived,  and  who  were  men 
of  pleasure  and  the  world,  he  sat  pretty  silent  himself  in 
the  midst  of  their  rattle;  never  indulged  in  double  en- 
tendre in  his  conversation  with  women ;  had  no  victories 
over  the  sex  to  boast  of ;  and  was  shy  and  awkward  when 
he  heard  such  narrated  by  others. 

This  youthful  modesty  JNIr.  Sampson  had  remarked 
during  his  intercourse  with  the  lad  at  Castlewood,  where 
Mr.  Warrington  had  more  than  once  shown  himself 
quite  uneasy  whilst  Cousin  Will  was  telling  some  of  his 
chcHce  stories;  and  my  lord  liad  ciu'tly  rebuked  his 
brother,  bidding  him  keep  his  jokes  for  the  ushers'  table 
at  Kensington,  and  not  give  needless  offence  to  theii- 
kinsman.  Hence  the  exclamation  of  "  Ileverentia  pu- 
eris,"  which  the  Cha])lain  had  addressed  to  his  neiglibour 
at  the  ordinary  on  Harry's  first  a])])earance  there.  Mr. 
Sampson,  if  he  had  not  strengtli  siiflicient  to  do  right 
liimself,  at  least  had  grace  enougli  not  to  offend  inno- 
cent young  gentlemen  by  his  cynicism. 


396  THE   VIRGINIANS 

The  Chaplain  was  touched  by  Harry's  gift  of  the 
horse;  and  felt  a  genuine  friendliness  towards  the  lad. 
"  You  see,  sir,"  says  he,  "  I  am  of  the  world,  and  must 
do  as  the  rest  of  the  world  does.  I  have  led  a  rough 
life,  Mr.  Warrington,  and  can't  afford  to  be  more  par- 
ticular than  my  neighbours.  Video  meliora,  deteriora 
sequor,  as  we  said  at  college.  I  have  got  a  little  sister, 
who  is  at  boarding-school,  not  very  far  from  here,  and, 
as  I  keep  a  decent  tongue  in  my  head  when  I  am  talk- 
ing with  my  little  Patty,  and  expect  others  to  do  as 
much,  sure  I  may  try  and  do  as  much  by  you." 

The  Chaplain  was  loud  in  his  praises  of  Harry  to  his 
aunt,  the  old  Baroness.  She  liked  to  hear  him  praised. 
She  was  as  fond  of  him  as  she  could  be  of  anything; 
was  pleased  in  his  company,  with  his  good  looks,  his 
manly  courageous  bearing,  his  blushes,  which  came  so 
readily,  his  bright  eyes,  his  deep  youthful  voice.  His 
shrewdness  and  simplicity  constantly  amused  her;  she 
would  have  wearied  of  him  long  before,  had  he  been 
clever,  or  learned,  or  witty,  or  other  than  he  was.  "  We 
must  find  a  good  wife  for  him,  chaplain,"  she  said  to 
Mr.  Sampson.  "  I  have  one  or  two  in  my  eye,  who,  I 
think,  will  suit  him.  We  must  set  him  up  here ;  he  never 
will  bear  going  back  to  his  savages  again,  or  to  live  with 
his  little  Methodist  of  a  mother." 

Now  about  this  point  Mr.  Sampson,  too,  was  per- 
sonally anxious,  and  had  also  a  wife  in  his  eye  for 
Harry.  I  suppose  he  must  have  had  some  conversa- 
tions with  his  lord  at  Castlewood,  whom  we  have  heard 
expressing  some  intention  of  complimenting  his  chap- 
lain with  a  good  living  or  other  provision,  in  event  of 
his  being  able  to  carry  out  his  lordship's  wishes  regard- 
ing a  marriage  for  Lady  Maria.     If  his  good  offices 


THE  VIRGINIANS  397 

could  help  that  anxious  lady  to  a  husband,  Sampson 
was  ready  to  employ  them:    and  he  now  waited  to  see 
'^in  what  most  effectual  manner  he  could  bring  his  influ- 
ence to  bear. 

Sampson's  society  v/as  most  agreeable,  and  he  and 
his  young  friend  were  intimate  in  the  course  of  a  few 
hours.  The  parson  rejoiced  in  high  spirits,  good  appe- 
tite, good  humour;  pretended  to  no  sort  of  squeamish- 
ness,  and  indulged  in  no  sanctified  hypocritical  conver- 
sation ;  nevertheless,  he  took  care  not  to  shock  his  young 
friend  by  any  needless  outbreaks  of  levity  or  immorality 
of  talk,  initiating  his  pupil,  perhaps  from  policy,  per- 
haps from  compunction,  only  into  the  minor  mysteries, 
as  it  were ;  and  not  telling  him  the  secrets  with  which  the 
unlucky  adept  himself  was  only  too  familiar.  With 
Harry,  Sampson  was  only  a  brisk,  lively,  jolly  com- 
panion, ready  for  any  drinking  bout,  or  any  sport,  a 
cock-fight,  a  shooting-match,  a  game  at  cards,  or  a  gal- 
lop across  the  common ;  but  his  conversation  was  decent, 
and  he  tried  much  more  to  amuse  the  young  man,  than 
to  lead  him  astray.  The  Chaplain  was  quite  successful: 
he  had  immense  animal  spirits  as  well  as  natural  wit, 
and  aptitude  as  well  as  experience  in  that  business  of 
toad-eater  which  had  been  his  calling  and  livelihood  from 
his  very  earliest  years,  —  ever  since  he  first  entered  col- 
lege as  a  servitor,  and  cast  about  to  see  by  whose  means 
he  could  make  his  fortune  in  life.  That  was  but  satire 
just  now,  when  we  said  there  were  no  toad-eaters  left 
in  the  world.  There  are  many  men  of  Sampson's  pro- 
fession now,  doubtless;  nay,  little  boys  at  our  public 
schools  are  sent  thither  at  the  earliest  age,  instructed  by 
their  parents,  and  put  out  apprentices  to  toad-eating. 
But  the  flattery  is  not  so  manifest  as  it  used  to  be  a  hun- 


398  THE   VIRGINIANS 

dred  j^ears  since.     Young  men  and  old  have  hangers- 
on,  and  led-captains,  hut  they  assume  an  appearance  of 
equahty,  horrow  money,  or  swallow  their  toads  in  pri- 
vate, and  walk  ahroad  arm-in-arm  with  the  great  man, 
and  call  him  hy  his  name  without  his  title.     In  those 
good  old  times,  when  Harry  Warrington  first  came  to 
Europe,  a  gentleman's  toad-eater  pretended  to  no  airs 
of  equality  at  all;    openly  paid  court  to  his  patron, 
called  him  hy  that  name  to  other  folks,  went  on  his  er- 
rands for  him,— any  sort  of  errands  which  the  patron 
might  devise,— called  him  Sir  in  speaking  to  him,  stood 
up  in  his  presence  until  bidden  to  sit  down,  and  flattered 
him  ex  officio.     Mr.   Sampson  did  not  take  the  least 
shame  in  speaking  of  Harry  as  his  young  patron,— as  a 
young  Virginian  nobleman  recommended  to  him  by  his 
other  noble  patron,  the  Earl  of  Castlewood.     He  was 
proud  of  appearing  at  Harry's  side,  and  as  his  humble 
retainer,  in  public  talked  about  him  to  the  company, 
gave  orders  to  Harry's  tradesmen,  from  whom,  let  us 
hope,  he  received  a  percentage  in  return  for  his  rec- 
ommendations, performed  all  the  functions  of  aide-de- 
camp—others, if  our  young  gentleman  demanded  them 
from  the  obsequious  divine,  who  had  gaily  discharged 
the  duties  of  ami  du  prince  to  ever  so  many  young  men 
of  fashion,  since  his  own  entrance  into  the  world.     It 
must  be  confessed  that,  since  his  arrival  in  Europe,  Mr. 
Warrington  had  not  been  uniformly  lucky  in  the  friend- 
ships which  he  had  made. 

"  What  a  reputation,  sir,  they  have  made  for  you  in 
this  place!  "  cries  Mr.  Sampson,  coming  back  from  the 
cofl*ee-house  to  his  patron.  "  INIonsieur  de  Richelieu  was 
nothing  to  you! " 

"  How  do  you  mean,  Monsieur  de  Richelieu?— Never 


THE   VIRGINIANS  399 

was  at  JNIinorca  in  my  life,"  says  downright  Harry,  who 
had  not  heard  of  those  victories  at  home  which  made  the 
::;5.French  duke  famous. 

Mr.  Sampson  explained.  The  pretty  widow 
Patcham  who  had  just  arrived  was  certainly  desper- 
ate about  Mr.  Warrington:  her  way  of  going  on  at  the 
rooms,  the  night  before,  proved  that.  As  for  Mrs. 
Hooper,  that  was  a  known  case,  and  the  Alderman  had 
fetched  his  wife  back  to  London  for  no  other  reason. 
It  was  the  talk  of  the  whole  Wells. 

"Who  says  so?"  cries  out  Harry,  indignantly.  "  I 
should  like  to  meet  the  man  who  dares  say  so,  and  con- 
found the  villain!" 

"  I  should  not  like  to  show  him  to  you,"  says  Mr. 
Sampson,  laughing.    "  It  might  be  the  worse  for  him." 

"  It's  a  shame  to  speak  with  such  levity  about  the 
character  of  ladies  or  of  gentlemen,  either,"  continues 
]\Ir.  Warrington,  pacing  up  and  down  the  room  in  a 
fume. 

"  So  I  told  them,"  says  the  Chaplain,  wagging  his 
head  and  looking  very  much  moved  and  verj^  grave, 
though,  if  the  trutli  were  known,  it  had  never  come  into 
his  mind  at  all  to  be  angry  at  hearing  charges  of  this 
nature  against  Harry. 

"  It's  a  shame,  I  say,  to  talk  away  the  reputation  of 
any  man  or  woman  as  people  do  here.  Do  you  know,  in 
our  country,  a  fellow's  ears  would  not  be  safe;  and  a 
little  before  I  left  home,  tln-ee  brothers  shot  down  a 
man,  for  having  spoken  ill  of  their  sister." 

"  Serve  the  villain  right!  "  cries  Sampson. 
"  Already  they  have  had  that  calumny  about  me  set 
a-going  here,  Sampson, — about  me  and  the  poor  little 
French  dancing-girl." 


400  THE   VIRGINIANS 

"  I  have  heard,"  says  Mr.  Sampson,  shaking  powder 
out  of  his  wig. 

"Wicked;   wasn't  it?" 

"  Abominable." 

"  They  said  the  very  same  thing  about  my  Lord 
INIarch.     Isn't  it  shameful?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is,"  says  Mr.  Sampson,  preserving  a  face 
of  wonderful  gravity. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  if  these  stories  were 
to  come  to  my  mother's  ears.  It  would  break  her  heart, 
I  do  believe  it  would.  Why,  only  a  few  days  before 
you  came,  a  military  friend  of  mine,  Mr.  Wolfe,  told  me 
how  the  most  horrible  lies  were  circulated  about  me. 
Good  heavens!  What  do  they  think  a  gentleman  of 
my  name  and  country  can  be  capable  of — I  a  seducer  of 
women?  They  might  as  well  say  I  was  a  horse-stealer 
or  a  housebreaker.  I  vow  if  I  hear  any  man  say  so,  I'll 
have  his  ears! " 

"  I  have  read,  sir,  that  the  Grand  Seignior  of  Turkey 
has  bushels  of  ears  sometimes  sent  in  to  him,"  says  Mr. 
Sampson,  laughing.  "  If  you  took  all  those  that  had 
heard  scandal  against  you  or  others,  what  baskets  you 
would  fill!  " 

"  And  so  I  would,  Sampson,  as  soon  as  look  at  'em: — 
any  fellow's  who  said  a  word  against  a  lady  or  a  gentle- 
man of  honour!  "  cries  the  Virginian. 

"  If  you'll  go  down  to  the  Well,  you'll  find  a  harvest 
of  'em.  I  just  came  from  there.  It  was  the  high  tide 
of  Scandal.  Detraction  was  at  its  height.  And  j^ou 
may  see  the  nyinjjhas  discentes  and  the  aures  satyr orum 
acutasT  cries  the  Chaplain,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"  That  may  be  as  you  say,  Sampson,"  Mr.  Warring- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  401 

ton  replies;  "  but  if  ever  I  hear  any  man  speak  against 
my  character  I'll  punish  him.     JMark  that." 

"  I  shall  be  very  sorry  for  his  sake,  that  I  should ;  for 
you'll  mark  him  in  a  way  he  won't  like,  sir ;  and  I  know 
you  are  a  man  of  your  word." 

"  You  may  be  sure  of  that,  Sampson.  And  now  shall 
we  go  to  dinner,  and  afterwards  to  my  Lady  Trump- 
ington's  tea?  " 

"  You  know,  sir,  I  can't  resist  a  card  or  a  bottle,"  says 
Mr.  Sampson.  "  Let  us  have  the  last  first  and  then  the 
first  shall  come  last."  And  with  this  the  two  gentlemen 
went  off  to  their  accustomed  place  of  refection. 

That  was  an  age  in  which  wine-bibbing  was  more 
common  than  in  our  politer  time;  and,  especially  since 
the  arrival  of  General  Braddock's  army  in  his  native 
country,  our  young  Virginian  had  acquired  rather  a  lik- 
ing for  the  filling  of  bumpers  and  the  calling  of  toasts; 
having  heard  that  it  was  a  point  of  honour  among  the 
officers  never  to  decline  a  toast  or  a  challenge.  So  Harry 
and  his  chaplain  drank  their  claret  in  peace  and  plenty, 
naming,  as  the  simple  custom  was,  some  favourite  lady 
with  each  glass. 

The  Chaplain  had  reasons  of  his  own  for  desiring  to 
know  how  far  tlie  affair  between  Harry  and  my  Lady 
Maria  had  gone;  whether  it  was  advancing,  or  whether 
it  was  ended;  and  he  and  his  young  friend  were  just 
warm  enough  with  the  claret  to  be  able  to  talk  with  that 
great  elociuence,  that  candour,  that  admirable  friendli- 
ness, which  good  wine  taken  in  a  rather  injudicious 
quantity  inspires.  O  kindly  harvests  of  the  Aquitanian 
grape!  ()  sunny  banks  of  Garonne!  O  friendly  caves 
of  Gledstane,  where  the  dusky  fiasks  lie  recondite !  May 
we  not  say  a  word  of  thanks  for  all  the  pleasure  we  owe 


402  THE   VIRGINIANS 

you?  Are  the  Temperance  men  to  be  allowed  to  shout 
in  the  public  places?  are  the  Vegetarians  to  bellow 
"  Cabbage  for  ever?  "  and  may  we  modest  ffinophilists 
not  sing  the  praises  of  our  favourite  plant?  After 
the  drinking  of  good  Bordeaux  wine,  there  is  a  point 
(I  do  not  say  a  pint)  at  which  men  arrive,  when  all 
the  generous  faculties  of  the  soul  are  awakened  and  in 
full  vigour;  when  the  wit  brightens  and  breaks  out  in 
sudden  flashes;  when  the  intellects  are  keenest;  when 
the  pent-up  words  and  confined  thoughts  get  a  night- 
rule,  and  rush  abroad  and  disport  themselves ;  when  the 
kindest  afl'ections  come  out  and  shake  hands  with  man- 
kind, and  the  timid  Truth  jumps  up  naked  out  of  his 
well  and  proclaims  himself  to  all  the  world.  How,  by 
the  kind  influence  of  the  wine-cup,  we  succour  the  poor 
and  humble!  How  bravely  we  rush  to  the  rescue  of  the 
oppressed!  I  say,  in  the  face  of  all  the  pumps  which 
ever  spouted,  that  there  is  a  moment  in  a  bout  of  good 
wine  at  which,  if  a  man  could  but  remain,  wit,  wisdom, 
courage,  generosity,  eloquence,  happiness,  were  his;  but 
the  moment  passes,  and  that  other  glass  somehow  spoils 
the  state  of  beatitude.  There  is  a  headache  in  the  morn- 
ing; we  are  not  going  into  Parliament  for  our  native 
town ;  we  are  not  going  to  shoot  those  French  officers  who 
have  been  speaking  disrespectfully  of  our  country ;  and 
poor  Jeremy  Diddler  calls  about  eleven  o'clock  for  an- 
other half-sovereign,  and  we  are  unwell  in  bed,  and 
can't  see  him,  and  send  him  empty  away. 

Well,  then,  as  they  sat  over  their  generous  cups,  the 
company  having  departed,  and  the  — th  bottle  of  claret 
being  brought  in  by  Monsieur  Barbeau,  the  Chaplain 
found  himself  in  an  eloquent  state,  with  a  strong  desire 
for  inculcating  sublime  moral  precepts,  whilst  Harry 


THE    VIRGINIANS  403 

was  moved  by  an  extreme  longing  to  explain  his  whole 
private  history,  and  impart  all  his  present  feelings  to 
^  his  new  friend.  Mark  that  fact.  Why  must  a  man  say 
everytliing  that  comes  uppermost  in  his  noble  mind  be- 
cause, forsooth,  he  has  swallowed  a  half -pint  more  of 
wine  than  he  ordinarily  drinks?  Suppose  I  had  com- 
mitted a  murder  (of  course  I  allow  the  sherry  and  cham- 
pagne at  dinner),  should  I  announce  that  homicide 
somewhere  about  the  tliird  bottle  (in  a  small  party  of 
men)  of  claret  at  dessert?  Of  course:  and  hence  the 
fidelity  of  water-gruel  announced  a  few  pages  back. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  what  your  conduct  has  really  been 
with  regard  to  the  Cattarina,  Mr.  Warrington;  I  am 
glad  from  my  soul,"  says  the  impetuous  Chaplain. 
"  The  wine  is  with  you.  You  have  shown  that  you  can 
bear  down  calumny,  and  resist  temptation.  Ah!  my 
dear  sir,  men  are  not  all  so  fortunate.  What  famous 
good  wine  this  is!"  and  he  sucks  up  a  glass  with  "A 
toast  from  you,  my  dear  sir,  if  you  please!" 

"  I  give  you  '  JMiss  Fanny  Mountain,  of  Virginia,'  " 
says  Mr.  Warrington,  filling  a  bumper  as  his  thoughts 
fly  straightwa}^  ever  so  many  thousand  miles,  to  home. 

"  One  of  your  American  conquests,  I  suppose?  "  says 
the  Chaplain. 

"  Nay,  she  is  l)ut  ten  years  old,  and  I  have  never  made 
any  conquests  at  all  in  Virginia,  Mr.  Sampson,"  says  the 
young  gentleman. 

"  You  are  like  a  true  gentleman,  and  don't  kiss  and 
tell,  sir." 

"  I  neither  kiss  nor  tell.  It  isn't  the  custom  of  our 
country,  Sampson,  to  niiii  girls,  or  fre(juent  the  society 
of  low  women.  We  Virginian  gentlemen  honour 
women;    we  don't  wish  to  bring  them  to  shame,"  cries 


404  THE   VIRGINIANS 

the  young  toper,  looking  very  proud  and  handsome. 
"  The  young  lady  whose  name  I  mentioned  hath  lived 
in  our  family  since  her  infancy,  and  I  would  shoot  the 
man  who  did  her  a  wrong;— by  heaven,  I  would!  " 

"  Your  sentiments  do  you  honour!  Let  me  shake 
hands  with  you !  I  tcill  shake  hands  with  you,  ]Mr.  War- 
rington," cried  the  enthusiastic  Sampson.  "  And  let  me 
tell  you,  'tis  the  grasp  of  honest  friendship  offered  you, 
and  not  merely  the  poor  retainer  paying  court  to  the 
wealthy  patron.  No!  with  such  liquor  as  this,  all  men 
are  equal;  —  faith,  all  men  are  rich,  whilst  it  lasts!  and 
Tom  Sampson  is  as  wealthy  with  his  bottle  as  your 
honour  with  all  the  acres  of  your  principality!" 

"  Let  us  have  another  bottle  of  riches,"  says  Harry, 
with  a  laugh.  "  Encore  du  cachet  jaune,  mon  bon  Mon- 
sieur Barbeau!"  and  exit  Monsieur  Barbeau  to  the 
caves  below. 

"Another  bottle  of  riches!  Capital,  capital!  How 
beautifully  you  speak  French,  Mr.  Harry." 

"  I  do  speak  it  well,"  says  Harry.  "  At  least,  when  I 
speak  Monsieur  Barbeau  understands  me  well  enough." 

"  You  do  everything  well,  I  think.  You  succeed  in 
whatever  you  try.  That  is  why  they  have  fancied  here 
you  have  won  the  hearts  of  so  many  women,  sir." 

"  There  you  go  again  about  the  women!  I  tell  you 
I  don't  like  these  stories  about  women.  Confound  me, 
Sampson,  why  is  a  gentleman's  character  to  be  blackened 
so?" 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  there  is  one,  unless  my  eyes  de- 
ceive me  very  much  indeed,  sir!  "  cries  the  Chaplain. 

"  Whom  do  you  mean? "  asked  Harry,  flushing  very 
red. 

"  Nay.     I  name  no  names.     It  isn't  for  a  poor  chap- 


THE   VIRGINIANS  405 

lain  to  meddle  with  his  betters'  doings,  or  to  know  their 
thoughts,"  says  Mr.  Sampson. 

"Thoughts!   tc/^ftf  thoughts,  Sampson?" 

"  I  fancied  I  saw,  on  the  part  of  a  certain  lovely  and 
respected  lady  at  Castlewood,  a  preference  exhibited. 
I  fancied,  on  the  side  of  a  certain  distinguished  young 
gentleman,  a  strong  liking  manifested  itself :  but  I  may 
have  been  wrong,  and  ask  pardon." 

"Oh,  Sampson,  Sampson!"  broke  out  the  young 
man.  "  I  tell  you  I  am  miserable.  I  tell  you  I  have 
been  longing  for  some  one  to  confide  in,  or  ask  advice 
of.  You  do  know,  then,  that  there  has  been  some- 
thing going  on — something  between  me  and — help 
Mr.  Sampson,  Monsieur  Barbeau— and — some  one 
else?" 

"  I  have  watched  it  this  month  past,"  says  the  Chap- 
lain. 

"  Confound  me,  sir,  do  you  mean  you  have  been  a  spy 
on  me?  "  says  the  other  hotly. 

"  A  spy!  You  made  little  disguise  of  the  matter, .Mr. 
Warrington,  and  her  ladyship  wasn't  a  much  better 
liand  at  deceiving.  You  were  always  together.  In  the 
shrubberies,  in  the  walks,  in  the  village,  in  the  galleries 
of  the  house, — you  always  found  a  pretext  for  being 
together,  and  plenty  of  eyes  besides  mine  watched  you." 

"Gracious  powers!  What  did  you  see,  Sampson?" 
cries  the  lad. 

"  Nay,  sir,  'tis  forbidden  to  kiss  and  tell.  I  say  so 
again,"  says  the  Chaplain. 

The  young  man  turned  very  red.  "  Oh,  Sampson!  " 
he  cried,  "  can  I  — can  I  confide  in  you?  " 

"  Dearest  sir — dear  generous  youth  —  you  know  I 
would  shed   my  heart's  blood   for  you!"  exclaims  the 


406  THE   VIRGINIANS 

Chaplain,  squeezing  his  patron's  hand,  and  turning  a 
briUiant  pair  of  eyes  ceiling-wards. 

"  Oh,  Sampson!  I  tell  you  I  am  miserable.  With  all 
this  play  and  wine,  whilst  I  have  been  here,  I  tell  you 
I  have  been  trying  to  drive  away  care.  I  own  to  you 
that  when  we  were  at  Castlewood  there  was  things 
passed  between  a  certain  lady  and  me." 

The  parson  gave  a  slight  whistle  over  his  glass  of 
Bordeaux. 

"  And  they've  made  me  wretched,  those  things  have. 
I  mean,  j^ou  see,  that  if  a  gentleman  has  given  his  word, 
why,  it's  his  word,  and  he  must  stand  by  it,  you  know. 
I  mean  that  I  thought  I  loved  her,— and  so  I  do  very 
much,  and  she's  a  most  dear,  kind,  darling,  affectionate 
creature,  and  very  handsome,  too,— quite  beautiful;  but 
then,  you  know,  our  ages,  Sampson!  Think  of  our  ages, 
Sampson!    She's  as  old  as  my  mother!  " 

"  Who  would  never  forgive  you?  " 

"  I  don't  intend  to  let  anybody  meddle  in  my  affairs, 
not  Madam  Esmond  nor  anybody  else,"  cries  Harry: 
"but  you  see,  Sampson,  she  is  old— and,  oh,  hang  it! 
Why  did  Aunt  Bernstein  tell  me—" 

"Tell  you  what?" 

"  Something  I  can't  divulge  to  anybody,  something 
that  tortures  me!  " 

"Not  about  the— the— "  the  Chaplain  paused:  he 
was  going  to  say  about  her  ladyship's  little  affair  with 
the  French  dancing-master;  about  other  little  anec- 
dotes affecting  her  character.  But  he  had  not  drunk 
wine  enough  to  be  quite  candid,  or  too  much,  and  was 
past  the  real  moment  of  virtue. 

"  Yes,  yes,  every  one  of  'em  false— every  one  of  'em!  " 
shrieks  out  Harry. 


THE   VIRGINIANS  407 

"  Great  powers,  what  do  you  mean?  "  asks  his  friend. 

"  These,  sir,  these!  "  says  Harry,  beating  a  tattoo  on 
his  own  white  teeth.  "  I  didn't  know  it  when  I  asked  her. 
I  swear  I  didn't  know  it.  Oh,  it's  horrible— it's  horrible! 
and  it  has  caused  me  nights  of  agony,  Sampson.  My 
dear  old  grandfather  had  a  set,  a  Frenchman  at  Charles- 
ton made  them  for  him,  and  we  used  to  look  at  'em 
grinning  in  a  tumbler,  and  when  they  were  out,  his  jaws 
used  to  fall  in— I  never  thought  she  had  'em." 

"  Had  what,  sir?  "  again  asked  the  Chaplain. 

"  Confound  it,  sir,  don't  you  see  I  mean  teeth?  "  says 
Harry,  rapj^ing  the  table. 

"  Nay,  only  two." 

"And  how  the  devil  do  you  know,  sir?"  asks  the 
young  man,  fiercely. 

"I  —  I  had  it  from  her  maid.  She  had  two  teeth 
knocked  out  by  a  stone  which  cut  her  lip  a  little,  and 
they  have  been  replaced." 

"  Oh,  wSampson,  do  you  mean  to  say  they  ain't  all 
sham  ones?  "  cries  the  boy. 

"  But  two,  sir,  at  least  so  Peggy  told  me,  and  she 
would  just  as  soon  have  blabbed  about  the  whole  two 
and  thirty — the  rest  are  as  sound  as  yours,  which  are 
beautiful." 

"  And  her  hair,  Sampson,  is  that  all  right,  too?  "  asks 
the  young  gentleman. 

"  'Tis  lovely — I  have  seen  that.  I  can  take  my  oath 
to  that.  Her  ladyship  can  sit  upon  it;  and  her  figure  is 
very  fine;  and  her  skin  is  as  white  as  snow;  and  her 
heart  is  the  kindest  that  ever  was;  and  I  know— that  is, 
I  feel  sure — it  is  very  tender  about  you,  Mr.  Warring- 
ton." 

"  Oh,  Sampson!  heaven — heaven  bless  you!    What  a 


408  THE   VIRGINIANS 

weight  you've  taken  off  my  mind  with  those— those — 
never  mind  them!  Oh,  Sam!  How  happy— that  is,  no, 
no— oh,  how  miserable  I  am!  She's  as  old  as  Madam 
Esmond— by  George  she  is— she's  as  old  as  my  mother. 
You  wouldn't  have  a  fellow  marry  a  woman  as  old  as 
his  mother?  It's  too  bad :  by  George  it  is.  It's  too  bad." 
And  here,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  Harry  Esmond  Warring- 
ton, Esquire,  of  Castlewood,  in  Virginia,  began  to  cry. 
The  delectable  point,  you  see,  must  have  been  passed 
several  glasses  ago. 

"  You  don't  want  to  marry  her,  then? "  asks  the 
Chaplain. 

"  What's  that  to  you,  sir?  I've  promised  her,  and  an 
Esmond— a  Virginia  Esmond,  mind  that— Mr.  What's 
your  name — Sampson — has  but  his  word!  "  The  senti- 
ment was  noble,  but  delivered  by  Harry  with  rather  a 
doubtful  articulation. 

"  Mind  you,  I  said  a  Virginia  Esmond,"  continued 
poor  Harry,  lifting  up  his  finger,  "  I  don't  mean  the 
younger  branch  here.  I  don't  mean  Will,  who  robbed 
me  about  the  horse,  and  whose  bones  I'll  break.  I  give 
you  Lady  Maria— heaven  bless  her,  and  heaven  bless 
you,  Sampson,  and  you  deserve  to  be  a  bishop,  old  boy!  " 

"  There  are  letters  between  you,  I  suppose?  "  says 
Sampson. 

"  Letters!  Dammy,  she's  always  writing  me  letters! 
— never  gets  me  into  a  window  but  she  sticks  one  in  my 
cuiF.  Letters,  that  is  a  good  idea.  Look  here!  Here's 
letters!  "  And  he  threw  down  a  pocket-book  containing 
a  heap  of  papers  of  the  poor  lady's  composition. 

"  Those  are  letters,  indeed.  What  a  post-bag!  "  says 
the  Chaplain. 

"  But  any  man  who  touches  them — dies — dies  on  the 


--5- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  409 

spot!  "  shrieks  Harry,  starting  from  his  seat,  and  reel- 
ing towards  his  sword ;  which  he  draws,  and  then  stamps 
"with  his  foot,  and  says,  "  Ha!  ha!  '^  and  then  lunges  at 
M.  Barbeau,  who  skips  away  from  the  lunge  behind  the 
Chaplain,  who  looks  rather  alarmed.  And  in  my  mind 
I  behold  an  exciting  picture  of  the  lad,  with  his  hair 
dishevelled,  raging  about  the  room  fl amber ge  au  vent, 
and  pinking  the  affrighted  innkeeper  and  chaplain. 
But  oh,  to  think  of  him  stumbling  over  a  stool,  and 
prostrated  by  an  enemy  who  has  stole  away  his  brains! 
Come,  Gumbo!  and  help  your  master  to  bed! 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


IN    WHICH    A   FAMILY    COACH    IS   ORDERED 


UR  pleasing  duty  now  is  to  di- 
vulge the  secret  which  Mr. 
Lambert  whispered  in  his 
wife's  ear  at  the  close  of 
the  antepenultimate  chap- 
ter, and  the  publication  of 
which  caused  such  great 
pleasure  to  the  whole  of  the 
Oakhurst  family.  As  the 
hay  was  in,  the  corn  not 
ready  for  cutting,  and 
l|j|  by  consequence  the  farm 
horses  disengaged,  why, 
asked  Colonel  Lambert, 
should  they  not  be  put  into 
the  coach,  and  should  we  not  all  pay  a  visit  to  Tunbridge 
Wells,  taking  friend  Wolfe  at  Westerham  on  our  way? 
Mamma  embraced  this  proposal,  and  I  dare  say  the 
gentleman  who  made  it.  All  the  children  jumped  for 
joy.  The  girls  went  off  straightway  to  get  their  best 
calamancoes,  paduasoys,  falbalas,  furbelows,  capes,  car- 
dinals, sacks,  negligees,  solitaires,  caps,  ribbons,  man- 
tuas,  clocked  stockings,  and  high-heeled  shoes,  and  I 
know  not  what  articles  of  toilette.    IMamma's  best  robes 

410 


•-^ 


THE  VIRGINIANS  411 

were  taken  from  the  presses,  whence  they  only  issued 
on  rare  solemn  occasions,  retiring  immediately  after- 
wards to  lavender  and  seclusion ;  the  brave  Colonel  pro- 
duced his  laced  hat  and  waistcoat  and  silver-hilted 
hanger;  Charley  rejoiced  in  a  rascc  holiday  suit  of  his 
father's,  in  which  the  Colonel  had  been  married,  and 
which  Mrs.  Lambert  cut  up,  not  without  a  pang.  Ball 
and  Dumpling  had  their  tails  and  manes  tied  with  rib- 
bon, and  Chump,  the  old  white  cart-horse,  went  as  uni- 
corn leader,  to  help  the  carriage-horses  up  the  first  hilly 
five  miles  of  the  road  from  Oakhurst  to  Westerham. 
The  carriage  was  an  ancient  vehicle,  and  was  believed  to 
have  serv^ed  in  the  procession  which  had  brought  George 
I.  from  Greenwich  to  London,  on  his  first  arrival  to 
assume  the  sovereignty  of  these  realms.  It  had  be- 
longed to  Mr.  Lambert's  father,  and  the  family  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  regarding  it,  ever  since  they  could 
remember  anything,  as  one  of  the  most  splendid  coaches 
in  the  three  kingdoms.  Brian,  coachman,  and — must  it 
also  be  owned?— ploughman,  of  the  Oakhurst  family 
had  a  place  on  the  box,  with  Mr.  Charley  by  his  side. 
The  precious  clothes  were  packed  in  imperials  on  the 
roof.  The  Colonel's  pistols  were  put  in  the  pockets  of 
the  carriage,  and  the  blunderbuss  hung  behind  the  box, 
in  reach  of  Brian,  wlio  was  an  old  soldier.  No  higli- 
wayman,  however,  molested  the  convoy;  not  even  an 
innkeeper  levied  contributions  on  Colonel  liambert, 
who,  with  a  slender  purse  and  a  large  family,  was  not  to 
be  plundered  by  those  or  any  other  de])redators  on  the 
king's  highway;  and  a  reasonaljle  cheap  modest  lodging 
had  been  engaged  for  tliem  by  yoimg  Colonel  Wolfe, 
at  the  house  wlierc  he  was  in  the  habit  of  putting  up, 
and  whither  he  himself  accompanied  tliem  on  horseback. 


412  THE  VIRGINIANS 

It  happened  that  these  lodgings  were  opposite 
Madame  Bernstein's;  and  as  the  Oakhurst  family 
reached  their  quarters  on  a  Saturday  evening,  they  could 
see  chair  after  chair  discharging  powdered  beaux  and 
patched  and  brocaded  beauties  at  the  Baroness's  door, 
who  was  holding  one  of  her  many  card-parties.  The  sun 
was  not  yet  down,  (for  our  ancestors  began  their  dissi- 
pations at  early  hours,  and  were  at  meat,  drink,  or  cards, 
any  time  after  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  until  any 
time  in  the  night  or  morning,)  and  the  young  country 
ladies  and  their  mother  from  their  window  could  see  the 
various  personages  as  they  passed  into  the  Bernstein 
rout.  Colonel  Wolfe  told  the  ladies  who  most  of  the 
characters  were.  'Twas  almost  as  delightful  as  going 
to  the  party  themselves,  Hetty  and  Theo  thought,  for 
they  not  only  could  see  the  guests  arriving,  but  look  into 
the  Baroness's  open  casements  and  watch  many  of 
them  there.  Of  a  few  of  the  personages  we  have  before 
had  a  glimpse.  When  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry 
passed,  and  Mr.  Wolfe  explained  who  she  was,  Martin 
Lambert  was  ready  with  a  score  of  lines  about  "  Kitty, 
beautiful  and  young,"  from  his  favourite  Mat  Prior. 

"  Think  that  that  old  lady  was  once  like  you,  girls! " 
cries  the  Colonel. 

"  Like  us,  papa?  Well,  certainly  we  never  set  up  for 
being  beauties! "  says  Miss  Hetty,  tossing  up  her  little 
head. 

"  Yes,  like  you,  you  little  baggage ;  like  you  at  this 
moment,  who  want  to  go  to  that  drum  yonder: — 

*  Inflamed  with  rage  at  sad  restraint 
Which  wise  mamma  ordained. 
And  sorely  vexed  to  play  the  saint 
Whilst  wit  and  beauty  reigned.'  " 


THE  VIRGINIANS  413 

"  We  were  never  invited,  paj^a ;  and  I  am  sure  if 
there's  no  beauty  more  worth  seeing  than  that,  the  wit 
'^.  can't  be  much  worth  the  hearing,"  again  says  the  satirist 
of  the  family. 

"  Oh,  but  he's  a  rare  poet,  Mat  Prior! "  continues  the 
Colonel;  "  though,  mind  you,  girls,  you'll  skip  over  all 
the  poems  I  have  marked  with  a  cross.  A  rare  poet !  and 
to  think  you  should  see  one  of  his  heroines !  '  Fondness 
prevailed,  mamma  gave  way '  ( she  always  will,  Mrs. 
Lambert!)  — 

'  Fondness  prevailed,  mamma  gave  way, — 
Kitty  at  heart's  desire 
Obtained  the  chariot  for  a  day, 
And  set  the  world  on  fire ! '  " 

*'  I  am  sure  it  must  have  been  very  inflammable,"  says 
mamma. 

"  So  it  was,  my  dear,  twenty  years  ago,  much  more 
inflammable  than  it  is  now,"  remarks  the  Colonel. 

"  Nonsense,  Mr.  Lambert!  "  is  mamma's  answer. 

"Look,  look!"  cries  Hetty,  running  forward  and 
pointing  to  the  little  square,  and  the  covered  gallery, 
where  was  the  door  leading  to  Madame  Bernstein's 
apartment,  and  round  which  stood  a  crowd  of  street 
urchins,  idlers  and  yokels,  watching  the  company. 

"It's  Harry  Warrington!"  exclaims  Theo,  waving 
a  handkerchief  to  the  young  Virginian:  but  Warring- 
ton did  not  see  Miss  Lambert.  The  Virginian  was 
walking  arm-in-arm  with  a  portly  clergyman  in  a  crisp 
rustling  silk  gown,  and  the  two  went  into  Madame  de 
Bernstein's  door. 

"  I  heard  him  preach  a  most  admirable  sermon  here 


414  THE  VIRGINIANS 

last  Sunday,"  says  Mr.  Wolfe;  "  a  little  theatrical,  but 
most  striking  and  eloquent." 

"  You  seem  to  be  here  most  Sundays,  James,"  says 
]Mrs.  Lambert. 

"  And  JMonday,  and  so  on  till  Saturday,"  adds  the 
Colonel.  "  See,  Harry  has  beautified  himself  already, 
hath  his  hair  in  buckle,  and  I  have  no  doubt  is  going  to 
the  drum  too." 

"  I  had  rather  sit  quiet  generally  of  a  Saturday  even- 
ing," says  sober  Mr.  Wolfe;  "  at  any  rate  away  from 
card-playing  and  scandal;  but  I  own,  dear  Mrs.  Lam- 
bert, I  am  under  orders.  Shall  I  go  across  the  way  and 
send  Mr.  Warrington  to  you?  " 

"  No,  let  him  have  his  sport.  We  shall  see  him  to- 
morrow. He  won't  care  to  be  disturbed  amidst  his  fine 
folks  by  us  country  people,"  said  meek  Mrs.  Lambert. 

"  I  am  glad  he  is  with  a  clergyman  who  preaches  so 
well,"  says  Theo,  softly;  and  her  eyes  seemed  to  say. 
You  see,  good  people,  he  is  not  so  bad  as  you  thought 
him,  and  as  I,  for  my  part,  never  believed  him  to  be. 
"  The  clergyman  has  a  verj^  kind,  handsome  face." 

"  Here  comes  a  greater  clergyman,"  cries  ]Mr.  Wolfe. 
"  It  is  my  Lord  of  Salisbury,  with  his  blue  ribbon,  and  a 
chaplain  behind  him." 

"  And  whom  a  mercy's  name  have  we  here?  "  breaks 
in  Mrs.  Lambert,  as  a  sedan-chair,  covered  with  gilding, 
topped  with  no  less  than  five  earl's  coronets,  carried  by 
bearers  in  richly  laced  clothes,  and  preceded  by  three 
footmen  in  the  same  splendid  livery,  now  came  up  to 
Madame  de  Bernstein's  door.  The  Bishop,  who  had 
been  about  to  enter,  stopped,  and  ran  back  with  the  most 
respectful  bows  and  curtseys  to  the  sedan-chair,  giving 
his  hand  to  the  lady  who  stepped  thence. 


-r^J. 


.  THE  VIRGINIANS  415 

"Who  on  earth  is  this?"  asks  Mrs.  Lambert. 

"  Sj^rechen  sie  Deutsch?  Ja,  JNIeinherr.  Nichts  ver- 
stand,"  says  the  waggish  Colonel. 

"  Pooh,  JNIartin." 

"  Well,  if  you  can't  understand  High  Dutch,  my  love, 
how  can  I  help  it?  Your  education  was  neglected  at 
school.  Can  you  understand  heraldry — I  know  you 
can?" 

"  I  make,"  cries  Charley,  reciting  the  shield,  "  three 
merions  on  a  field  or,  with  an  earl's  coronet." 

"  A  countess's  coronet,  my  son.  The  Countess  of 
Yarmouth,  my  son." 

"  And  pray  who  is  she?  " 

"  It  hath  ever  been  the  custom  of  our  sovereigns  to 
advance  persons  of  distinction  to  honour,"  continues  the 
Colonel,  gravely,  "  and  this  eminent  lady  hath  been  so 
promoted  by  our  gracious  monarch  to  the  rank  of  Coun- 
tess of  this  kingdom." 

"But  why,  papa?"  asked  the  daughters  together. 

"  Never  mind,  girls!  "  said  mamma. 

But  that  incorrigible  Colonel  would  go  on. 

"  Y,  my  children,  is  one  of  the  last  and  the  most  awk- 
ward letters  of  the  whole  alphabet.  When  I  tell  you 
stories,  you  are  always  saying  Why.  Why  should  my 
liord  l^ishop  be  cringing  to  that  lady?  Look  at  him 
rub})ing  his  fat  hands  together,  and  smiling  into  her 
face!  It's  not  a  handsome  face  any  longer.  It  is  all 
painted  red  and  white  like  Scaramouch's  in  the  panto- 
mime. See,  there  comes  another  blue-riband,  as  I  live. 
My  Lord  Bamborough.  The  descendant  of  the  Hot- 
spurs. The  ])roudest  man  in  Kngland.  He  stops,  he 
bows,  he  smiles;  he  is  hat  in  hand,  too.  See,  she  taps 
him  with  her  fan.    (iet  away,  you  crowd  of  little  black- 


41G  THE  VIRGINIANS  . 

guard  boys,  and  don't  tread  on  the  robe  of  the  lady 
whom  the  King  dehghts  to  honour." 

"  But  why  does  the  King  honour  her?  "  ask  the  girls, 
once  more. 

"  There  goes  that  odious  last  letter  but  one!  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  her  Grace  the  Duchess  of  Kendal?  No. 
Of  the  Duchess  of  Portsmouth?  Non  plus.  Of  the 
Duchess  of  La  Valliere?     Of  Fair  Rosamond,  then?" 

"  Hush,  papa!  There  is  no  need  to  bring  blushes  on 
the  cheeks  of  my  dear  ones,  Martin  Lambert!  "  said  the 
mother,  putting  her  finger  to  her  husband's  lip. 

"  'Tis  not  I;  it  is  their  sacred  Majesties  who  are  the 
cause  of  the  shame,"  cries  the  son  of  the  old  republican. 
"  Think  of  the  bishops  of  the  Church  and  the  proudest 
nobility  of  the  world  cringing  and  bowing  before  that 
painted  High  Dutch  Jezebel.  Oh,  it's  a  shame,  a 
shame! " 

"Confusion!"  here  broke  out  Colonel  Wolfe,  and 
making  a  dash  at  his  hat,  ran  from  the  room.  He  had 
seen  the  young  lady  whom  he  admired  and  her  guardian 
walking  across  the  Pantiles  on  foot  to  the  Baroness's 
party,  and  they  came  up  whilst  the  Countess  of  Yar- 
mouth-Walmoden  was  engaged  in  conversation  with 
the  two  lords  spiritual  and  temporal,  and  these  two  made 
the  lowest  reverences  and  bows  to  the  Countess,  and 
waited  until  she  had  passed  in  at  the  door  on  the  Bishop's 
arm. 

Theo  turned  away  from  the  window  with  a  sad,  almost 
awe-stricken  face.  Hetty  still  remained  there,  looking 
from  it  with  indignation  in  her  eyes,  and  a  little  red  spot 
on  each  cheek. 

"  A  penny  for  little  Hetty's  thoughts,"  says  mamma, 
coming  to  the  window  to  lead  the  child  away. 


^r^J. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  417 

"  I  am  thinking  what  I  should  do  if  I  saw  papa  bow- 
ing to  that  woman,"  says  Hetty. 

Tea  and  a  hissing  kettle  here  made  their  appearance, 
and  the  family  sat  down  to  partake  of  their  evening 
meal,— leaving,  however,  Miss  Hetty,  from  their  place, 
command  of  the  window,  which  she  begged  her  brother 
not  to  close.  That  yoimg  gentleman  had  been  down 
amongst  the  crowd  to  inspect  the  armorial  bearings  gf 
the  Countess's  and  other  sedans,  no  doubt,  and  also  to 
invest  sixpence  in  a  cheese-cake,  by  manmia's  order  and 
his  own  desire,  and  he  returned  presently  with  this  deli- 
cacy wrapped  up  in  a  paper. 

"  Look,  mother,"  he  comes  back  and  says,  "  do  you 
see  that  big  man  in  brown  beating  all  the  pillars  with  a 
stick?  That  is  the  learned  Mr.  Johnson.  He  comes  to 
the  Friars  sometimes  to  see  our  master.  He  was  sitting 
with  some  friends  just  now  at  the  tea-table  before  Mrs. 
Brown's  tart-shop.  They  have  tea  there,  twopence  a 
cup;  I  heard  Mr.  Johnson  say  he  had  had  seventeen 
cups — that  makes  two-and-tenpence — what  a  sight  of 
money  for  tea!  " 

"  What  would  you  have,  Charley? "  asks  Theo. 

"  I  think  I  would  have  cheese-cakes,"  says  Charley, 
sighing,  as  his  teeth  closed  on  a  large  slice,  "  and  the 
gentleman  whom  Mr.  Johnson  was  with,"  continues 
Charley,  with  his  mouth  quite  full,  "  was  Mr.  Richard- 
son who  wrote — " 

"  Clarissa!  "  cry  all  the  women  in  a  breath,  and  run  to 
the  window  to  see  their  favourite  writer.  By  this  time 
the  sun  was  sunk,  the  stars  were  twinkling  overhead,  and 
the  footman  came  and  lighted  the  candles  in  the  Bar- 
oness's room  opposite  our  spies. 

Theo  and  her  mother  were  standing  together  look- 


418  THE  VIRGINIANS 

ing  from  their  place  of  observation.  There  was  a  small 
illumination  at  ]\Irs.  Brown's  tart  and  tea-shoj),  by 
which  our  friends  could  see  one  lady  getting  Mr.  Rich- 
ardson's hat  and  stick,  and  another  tying  a  shawl  round 
his  neck,  after  which  he  walked  home. 

''Oh  dear  me!  he  does  not  look  like  Grandison!" 
cries  Theo. 

"  I  rather  think  I  wish  we  had  not  seen  him,  my  dear," 
says  mamma,  who  has  been  described  as  a  most  senti- 
mental woman  and  eager  novel-reader;  and  here  again 
they  were  interrupted  by  Miss  Hetty,  who  cried: 

"  Never  mind  that  little  fat  man,  but  look  j^onder, 
mamma." 

And  they  looked  yonder.  And  they  saw,  in  the  first 
place,  Mr.  Warrington  undergoing  the  honour  of  a 
presentation  to  the  Countess  of  Yarmouth,  who  was  still 
followed  by  the  obsequious  peer  and  prelate  with  the 
blue  ribands.  And  now  the  Countess  graciously  sat 
down  to  a  card-table,  the  Bishop  and  the  Earl  and  a 
fourth  person  being  her  partners.  And  now  Mr.  War- 
rington came  into  the  embrasure  of  the  window  with  a 
lady  whom  they  recognized  as  the  lady  whom  they  had 
seen  for  a  few  minutes  at  Oakhurst. 

"  How  much  finer  he  is,"  remarks  mamma. 

"  How  he  is  improved  in  his  looks.  What  has  he  done 
to  himself?  "  asks  Theo. 

"  Look  at  his  grand  lace  frills  and  ruffles!  My  dear, 
he  has  not  got  on  our  shirts  any  more,"  cries  the  matron. 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  girls?"  asks  papa, 
reclining  on  his  sofa,  where,  perhaps,  he  was  dozing 
after  the  fashion  of  honest  housefathers. 

The  girls  said  how  Harry  Warrington  was  in  the  win- 
dow, talking  with  his  cousin  Lady  Maria  Esmond. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  410 

"  Come  away!  "  cries  papa.     "  You  have  no  right  to 
^  be  spying  the  young  fellow.     Down  with  the  curtains, 

^'  T  \  " 

i  sav! 

And  down  the  curtains  went,  so  that  the  girls  saw  no 
more  of  Madame  Bernstein's  guests  or  doings  for  that 
night. 

I  pray  you  not  be  angry  at  my  remarking,  if  only 
by  way  of  contrast  between  these  two  opposite  houses, 
that  while  INIadame  Bernstein  and  her  guests— bishop, 
dignitaries,  noblemen,  and  what  not— were  gambling 
or  talking  scandal,  or  devouring  champagne  and  chick- 
ens (which  I  hold  to  be  venial  sin),  or  doing  honour  to 
her  ladyship  the  king's  favourite,  the  Countess  of  Yar- 
mouth-Walmoden,  our  country  friends  in  their  lodgings 
knelt  round  their  table,  whither  Mr.  Brian  the  coach- 
man came  as  silently  as  his  creaking  shoes  would  let 
him,  whilst  Mr.  Lambert,  standing  up,  read  in  a  low 
voice,  a  prayer  that  heaven  would  lighten  their  dark- 
ness, and  defend  them  from  the  perils  of  that  night,  and 
a  supplication  that  it  would  grant  the  request  of  those 
two  or  three  gathered  together. 

Our  young  folks  were  up  betimes  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing, and  arrayed  themselves  in  those  smart  new  dresses 
which  were  to  fascinate  the  Tunbridge  folks,  and,  with 
the  escort  of  brother  Charley,  paced  the  little  town,  and 
the  quaint  Pantiles,  and  the  pretty  common,  long  ere 
the  company  was  at  breakfast,  or  the  bells  had  rung  to 
church.  It  was  Hester  who  found  out  where  Harry 
Warrington's  lodging  must  be,  by  remarking  Mr. 
Gumbo  in  an  undress,  with  his  lovely  hair  in  curl-papers, 
drawing  a  pair  of  red  curtains  aside,  and  ()])cning  a  win- 
dow-sash, whence  he  thrust  his  head  and  inhaled  the 


420  THE  VIRGINIANS 

sweet  morning  breeze.  Mr.  Gumbo  did  not  happen  to 
see  the  young  people  from  Oakhurst,  though  they  be- 
held him  clearly  enough.  He  leaned  gracefully  from 
the  window ;  he  waved  a  large  feather-brush  with  which 
he  condescended  to  dust  the  furniture  of  the  apartment 
within;  he  affably  engaged  in  conversation  with  a 
cherry-cheeked  milk-maid,  who  was  lingering  under  the 
casement,  and  kissed  his  lily  hand  to  her.  Gumbo's  hand 
sparkled  with  rings,  and  his  person  was  decorated  with 
a  profusion  of  jewellery — gifts,  no  doubt,  of  the  fair 
who  appreciated  the  young  African.  Once  or  twice 
more  before  breakfast-time  the  girls  passed  near  that 
window.  It  remained  open,  but  the  room  behind  it  was 
blank.  No  face  of  Harry  Warrington  appeared  there. 
Neither  spoke  to  the  other  of  the  subject  on  which  both 
were  brooding.  Hetty  was  a  little  provoked  with  Char- 
ley, who  was  clamorous  about  breakfast,  and  told  him  he 
was  always  thinking  of  eating.  In  reply  to  her  sarcastic 
inquiry,  he  artlessly  owned  he  should  like  another  cheese- 
cake, and  good-natured  Theo,  laughing,  said  she  had  a 
sixpence,  and  if  the  cake-shop  were  open  of  a  Sunday 
morning  Charley  should  have  one.  The  cake-shop  was 
open :  and  Theo  took  out  her  little  purse,  netted  by  her 
dearest  friend  at  school,  and  containing  her  pocket-piece, 
her  grandmother's  guinea,  her  slender  little  store  of  shil- 
lings— nay,  some  copper  money  at  one  end;  and  she 
treated  Charley  to  the  meal  which  he  loved. 

A  great  deal  of  fine  company  was  at  church.  There 
was  that  funny  old  Duchess,  and  old  Madame  Bern- 
stein, with  Lady  Maria  at  her  side ;  and  Mr.  Wolfe,  of 
course,  by  the  side  of  Miss  Lowther,  and  singing  with 
her  out  of  the  same  psalm-book;  and  Mr.  Richardson 
with  a  bevy  of  ladies.     One  of  them  is  Miss  Fielding, 


THE  VIRGINIANS  421 

papa  tells  them  after  church,  Harry  Fielding's  sister. 
"  Oh,  girls,  what  good  company  he  was!  .And  his  books 
are  worth  a  dozen  of  your  milksop  '  Pamelas  '  and  '  Cla- 
rissas,' Mrs.  Lambert :  but  what  woman  ever  loved  true 
humour?  "  And  there  was  Mr.  Johnson  sitting  amongst 
the  charity  children.  Did  you  see  how  he  turned  round 
to  the  altar  at  the  Belief,  and  upset  two  or  three  of  the 
scared  little  urchins  in  leather-breeches?  And  what  a 
famous  sermon  Harry's  parson  gave,  didn't  he?  A 
sermon  about  scandal.  How  he  touched  up  some  of  the 
old  harridans  who  were  seated  round !  Why  wasn't  Mr. 
Warrington  at  church?  It  was  a  shame  he  wasn't  at 
church. 

"  I  really  did  not  remark  whether  he  was  there  or 
not,"  says  Miss  Hetty,  tossing  her  head  up. 

But  Theo,  who  was  all  truth,  said,  "  Yes,  I  thought 
of  him,  and  was  sorry  he  was  not  there ;  and  so  did  you 
think  of  him,  Hetty." 

"  I  did  no  such  thing,  Miss,"  persists  Hetty. 

"  Then  why  did  you  whisper  to  me  it  was  Harry's 
clergyman  who  preached?" 

"  To  think  of  Mr.  Warrington's  clergyman  is  not  to 
think  of  Mr.  Warrington.  It  was  a  most  excellent  ser- 
mon, certainly,  and  the  children  sang  most  dreadfully 
out  of  tune.  And  there  is  Lady  Maria  at  the  window 
opposite,  smelling  at  the  roses ;  and  that  is  Mr.  Wolfe's 
step,  I  know  his  great  military  tramp.  Right  left— 
right  left!    How  do  you  do.  Colonel  Wolfe?  " 

"Why  do  you  look  so  glum,  James?"  asks  Colonel 
I^ambert,  good-naturedly.  "  Has  the  charmer  been 
scolding  thee,  or  is  thy  conscience  pricked  by  the  ser- 
mon. Mr.  Sampson,  isn't  the  parson's  name?  A  fa- 
mous preacher,  on  my  word !  " 


422  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  A  pretty  preacher,  and  a  pretty  practitioner!  "  says 
Mr.  Wolfe,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 

"  Why,  I  thought  the  discourse  did  not  last  ten  min- 
utes, and  madam  did  not  sleep  one  single  wink  during 
the  sermon,  didst  thou,  Molly?  " 

"Did  you  see  when  the  fellow  came  into  church?" 
asked  the  indignant  Colonel  Wolfe.  "  He  came  in  at 
the  open  door  of  the  common,  just  in  time,  and  as  the 
psalm  was  over." 

"  Well,  he  had  been  reading  the  service  probably  to 
some  sick  person;  there  are  many  here,"  remarks  Mrs. 
Lambert. 

"  Reading  the  service!  Oh,  my  good  Mrs.  Lambert! 
Do  you  know  where  I  found  him?  I  went  to  look  for 
your  young  scapegrace  of  a  Virginian." 

"  His  own  name  is  a  very  pretty  name,  I'm  sure,"  cries 
out  Hetty.  "  It  isn't  Scapegrace !  It  is  Henry  Esmond 
Warrington,  Esquire." 

"  ]Miss  Hester,  I  found  the  parson  in  his  cassock,  and 
Henry  Esmond  Warrington,  Esquire,  in  his  bed-gown, 
at  a  quarter  before  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when 
all  the  Sunday  bells  were  ringing,  and  they  were  playing 
over  a  game  of  picquet  they  had  had  the  night  before!  " 

"  Well,  numbers  of  good  people  play  at  cards  of 
a  Sunday.    The  King  plays  at  cards  of  a  Sunday!  " 

"  Hush,  my  dear!  " 

"  I  know  he  does,"  says  Hetty,  "  with  that  painted 
person  we  saw  yesterday,  that  Countess  what  d'you  call 
her?" 

"  I  think,  my  dear  Miss  Hester,  a  clergyman  had  best 
take  to  God's  books  instead  of  the  Devil's  books  on  that 
day— and  so  I  took  the  liberty  of  telling  your  parson." 
Hetty  looked  as  if  she  thought  it  was  a  liberty  which 


^' 


THE  VIRGINIANS  423 

Mr.  Wolfe  had  taken.  "  And  I  told  our  young  friend 
that  I  thought  he  had  hetter  have  been  on  his  way  to 
church  than  there  in  his  bed-gown." 

"  You  wouldn't  have  Harry  go  to  church  in  a  dress- 
ing-gown and  nightcap,  Colonel  Wolfe?  That  *would 
be  a  pretty  sight,  indeed! "  again  says  Hetty  fiercely. 

"  I  would  have  my  little  girl's  tongue  not  wag  quite 
so  fast,"  remarks  papa,  patting  the  girl's  flushed  little 
cheek. 

"  Not  speak  when  a  friend  is  attacked,  and  nobody 
says  a  word  in  his  favour?    No;   nobody!  " 

Here  the  two  lips  of  the  little  mouth  closed  on  each 
other;  the  whole  little  frame  shook:  the  child  flung  a 
parting  look  of  defiance  at  Mr.  Wolfe,  and  went  out  of 
the  room,  just  in  time  to  close  the  door,  and  burst  out 
crying  on  the  stair. 

Mr.  Wolfe  looked  very  much  discomforted.  "  I  am 
sure.  Aunt  Lambert,  I  did  not  intend  to  hurt  Hester's 
feelings." 

"  No,  James,"  she  said,  very  kindly— the  young  offi- 
cer used  to  call  her  Aunt  Lambert  in  quite  early  days— 
and  she  gave  him  her  hand. 

Mr.  Lambert  whistled  his  favourite  tune  of  "  Over 
the  hills  and  far  away,"  with  a  drum  accompaniment 
performed  by  his  fingers  on  the  window.  "  I  say,  you 
mustn't  whistle  on  Sunday,  papa!"  cried  the  artless 
young  gown-boy  from  Grey  Friars ;  and  then  suggested 
that  it  was  three  hours  from  breakfast,  and  he  should 
like  to  finish  Theo's  clicese-cake. 

"  Oh,  you  greedy  child!  "  cries  Theo.  But  here,  hear- 
ing a  little  exclamatory  noise  outside,  slie  ran  out  of 
the  room,  closing  the  door  behind  her.  And  we  will  not 
pursue  her.     The  noise  was  that  sob  which  broke  from 


424  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Hester's  panting,  overloaded  heart;  and,  though  we 
cannot  see,  I  am  sure  the  little  maid  flung  herself  on  her 
sister's  neck,  and  wept  upon  Theo's  kind  bosom. 

Hetty  did  not  walk  out  in  the  afternoon  when  the 
family  took  the  air  on  the  common,  but  had  a  headache 
and  lay  on  her  bed,  where  her  mother  watched  her. 
Charley  had  discovered  a  comrade  from  Grey  Friars; 
Mr.  Wolfe  of  course  paired  off  with  Miss  Lowther: 
and  Theo  and  her  father,  taking  their  sober  walk  in  the 
Sabbath  sunshine,  found  Madame  Bernstein  basking  on 
a  bench  under  a  tree,  her  niece  and  nephew  in  attendance. 
Harry  ran  up  to  greet  his  dear  friends :  he  was  radiant 
with  pleasure  at  beholding  them— the  elder  ladies  were 
most  gracious  to  the  Colonel  and  his  wife,  who  had  so 
kindly  welcomed  their  Harry. 

How  noble  and  handsome  he  looked,  Theo  thought: 
she  called  him  by  his  Christian  name,  as  if  he  were  really 
her  brother.  "  Why  did  we  not  see  you  sooner  to-day, 
Harry?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  never  thought  you  were  here,  Theo." 

"  But  you  might  have  seen  us  if  you  wished." 

"  Where?  "  asked  Harry. 

"  There,  sir,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  church.  And 
she  held  her  hand  up  as  if  in  reproof ;  but  a  sweet  kind- 
ness beamed  in  her  face.  Ah,  friendly  young  reader, 
wandering  on  the  world  and  struggling  with  tempta- 
tion, may  you  also  have  one  or  two  pure  hearts  to  love 
and  pray  for  you! 


'^^ 


-^ 


A  Lay  Sermon 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 


CONTAINS   A   SOLILOQUY    BY    HESTER 


ARTIN  LAMBERT'S 

first  feeling,  upon 
learning  the  little 
secret  which  his 
younger  daughter's 
emotion  had  re- 
vealed, was  to  ]be 
angry  with  the  lad 
who  had  robbed  his 
child's  heart  away 
from  him  and  her 
family.  "A  plague 
upon  all  scapegraces, 
English  or  Indian!" 
cried  the  Colonel  to 
his  wife.  "  I  wish 
this  one  had  broke 
his  nose  against  any 
door-post  but  ours." 
"  Perhaps  we  are  to  cure  him  of  being  a  scapegrace, 
my  dear,"  says  Mrs.  I^ambert,  mildly  interposing,  "  and 
the  fall  at  our  door  hath  something  providential  in  it. 
You  laughed  at  me,  Mr.  liambert,  when  I  said  so  before; 
but  if  heaven  did  not  send  the  young  gentleman  to  us, 
who  did?  And  it  may  be  for  the  blessing  and  happiness 
of  us  all  that  he  came,  too." 

4^5 


42G  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"It's  hard,  Molly!"  groaned  the  Colonel.  "We 
cherish  and  fondle  and  rear  'em :  we  tend  them  through 
sickness  and  health:  we  toil  and  we  scheme:  we  hoard 
away  money  in  the  stocking,  and  patch  our  own  old 
coats :  if  they've  a  headache,  we  can't  sleep  for  thinking 
of  their  ailment ;  if  they  have  a  wish  or  fancy,  we  work 
day  and  night  to  compass  it,  and  'tis  darling  daddy  and 
dearest  pappy,  and  whose  father  is  like  ours?  and  so 
forth.  On  Tuesday  morning  I  am  king  of  my  house  and 
family.  On  Tuesday  evening  Prince  Whippersnapper 
makes  his  appearance,  and  my  reign  is  over.  A  whole 
life  is  forgotten  and  forsworn  for  a  pair  of  blue 
eyes,  a  pair  of  lean  shanks,  and  a  head  of  yellow 
hair." 

"  'Tis  written  that  we  women  should  leave  all  to  fol- 
low our  husband.  I  think  our  courtship  was  not  very 
long,  dear  Martin!  "  said  the  matron,  laying  her  hand  on 
her  husband's  arm. 

"  'Tis  human  nature,  and  what  can  you  expect  of  the 
jade?  "  sighed  the  Colonel. 

"  And  I  think  I  did  my  duty  to  my  husband,  though 
I  own  I  left  my  papa  for  him,"  added  Mrs.  Lambert, 
softly. 

"Excellent  wench!  Perdition  catch  my  soul!  but  I 
do  love  thee,  Molly!"  says  the  good  Colonel;  "but, 
then,  mind  you,  your  father  never  did  me;  and  if  ever 
I  am  to  have  sons-in-law — " 

"  Ever,  indeed!  Of  course,  my  girls  are  to  have  hus- 
bands, Mr.  Lambert!  "  cries  mamma. 

"  Well,  when  they  come,  I'll  hate  them.  Madam,  as 
your  father  did  me;  and  quite  right  too,  for  taking  his 
treasure  away  from  him." 

"  Don't  be  irreligious  and  unnatural,  Martin  Lam- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  427 

bert!  I  say  you  are  unnatural,  sir!  "  continues  the  ma- 
tron. 
^'  "  Nay,  my  dear,  I  have  an  old  tooth  in  my  left  jaw, 
here;  and  'tis  natural  that  the  tooth  should  come  out. 
But  when  the  tooth-drawer  pulls  it,  'tis  natural  that  I 
should  feel  pain.  Do  you  suppose.  Madam,  that  I  don't 
love  Hett}^  better  than  any  tooth  in  my  head?"  asks 
]Mr.  Lambert.  But  no  woman  was  ever  averse  to  the 
idea  of  her  daughter  getting  a  husband,  however  fathers 
revolt  against  the  invasion  of  the  son-in-law.  As  for 
mothers  and  grandmothers,  those  good  folks  are  married 
over  again  in  the  marriage  of  their  young  ones;  and 
their  souls  attire  themselves  in  the  laces  and  muslins  of 
twenty — forty  years  ago;  the  postilion's  white  ribbons 
bloom  again,  and  they  flutter  into  the  post-chaise,  and 
drive  away.  What  woman,  however  old,  has  not  the 
bridal-favours  and  raiment  stowed  away,  and  packed  in 
lavender,  in  the  inmost  cupboards  of  her  heart? 

"  It  will  be  a  sad  thing  parting  with  her,"  continued 
Mrs.  Lambert,  with  a  sigh. 

*'  You  have  settled  that  point  already,  Molly,"  laughs 
the  Colonel.  "  Had  I  not  best  go  out  and  order  raisins 
and  corinths  for  the  wedding-cake?  " 

"  And  then  I  shall  have  to  leave  the  house  in  their 
charge  when  I  go  to  lier,  you  know,  in  Virginia.  How 
many  miles  is  it  to  Virginia,  Martin?  I  should  think  it 
must  be  thousands  of  miles." 

"  A  hundred  and  seventy-three  thousand  three  hun- 
dred and  ninety-one  and  three-quarters,  my  dear,  by  the 
near  way,"  answers  Lambert,  gravely;  "that  through 
Prester  John's  country.  By  the  other  route,  througli 
Persia-" 

"  Oh,  give  me  the  one  where  tbere  is  the  least  of  the 


428  THE  VIRGINIANS 

sea,  and  your  horrid  ships,  which  I  can't  bear!  "  cries  the 
Colonel's  spouse.  "  I  hope  llachel  Esmond  and  I  shall 
be  better  friends.  She  had  a  very  high  spirit  when  we 
were  girls  at  school." 

"  Had  we  not  best  go  about  the  baby -linen,  INIrs. 
INIartin  Lambert?  "  here  interposed  her  wondering  hus- 
band. Now,  Mrs.  Lambert,  I  dare  say,  thought  there 
was  no  matter  for  wonderment  at  all,  and  had  remarked 
some  very  j^retty  lace  caps  and  bibs  in  JNIrs.  Bobbinit's 
toy-shop.  And  on  that  Sunday  afternoon,  when  the 
discovery  was  made  and  while  little  Hetty  was  lying 
upon  her  pillow  with  feverish  cheeks,  closed  eyes,  and  a 
piteous  face,  her  mother  looked  at  the  child  with  the  most 
perfect  ease  of  mind,  and  seemed  to  be  rather  pleased 
than  otherwise  at  Hetty's  woe. 

The  girl  was  not  only  unhappy,  but  enraged  with  her- 
self for  having  published  her  secret.  Perhaps  she  had 
not  known  it  until  the  sudden  emotion  acquainted  her 
with  her  own  state  of  mind;  and  now  the  little  maid 
chose  to  be  as  much  ashamed  as  if  she  had  done  a  wrong, 
and  been  discovered  in  it.  She  was  indignant  with  her 
own  weakness,  and  broke  into  transports  of  wrath 
against  herself.  She  vowed  she  never  would  forgive 
herself  for  submitting  to  such  a  humiliation.  So  the 
young  pard,  wounded  by  the  hunter's  dart,  chafes  with 
rage  in  the  forest,  is  angry  with  the  surprise  of  the  ran- 
kling steel  in  her  side,  and  snarls  and  bites  at  her  sister- 
cubs,  and  the  leopardess,  her  spotted  mother. 

Little  Hetty  tore  and  gnawed,  and  growled,  so  that  I 
should  not  like  to  have  been  her  fraternal  cub,  or  her 
spotted  dam  or  sire.  "  What  business  has  any  young 
woman,"  she  cried  out,  "  to  indulge  in  any  such  non- 
sense?   Mamma,  I  ought  to  be  whipped,  and  sent  to  bed. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  429 

I  know  perfectly  well  that  Mr.  Warrington  does  not 
care  a  fig  about  me.  I  dare  saj^  he  likes  French  actresses 
''•and  the  commonest  little  milliner-girl  in  the  toy-shop 
better  than  me.  And  so  he  ought,  and  so  they  are  better 
than  me.  Why,  what  a  fool  I  am  to  burst  out  crying 
like  a  ninny  about  nothing,  and  because  Mr.  Wolfe  said 
Harry  played  cards  of  a  Sunday!  I  know  he  is  not 
clever,  like  papa.  I  believe  he  is  stupid — I  am  certain 
he  is  stupid :  but  he  is  not  so  stupid  as  I  am.  Why,  of 
course,  I  can't  marry  him.  How  am  I  to  go  to  America, 
and  leave  you  and  Theo?  Of  course,  he  likes  somebody 
else,  at  America,  or  at  Tunbridge,  or  at  Jericho,  or 
somewhere.  He  is  a  prince  in  his  own  country,  and  can't 
think  of  marrying  a  poor  half-pay  officer's  daughter, 
with  twopence  to  her  fortune.  Used  not  you  to  tell  me 
how,  Avhen  I  was  a  baby,  I  cried  and  wanted  the  moon? 
I  am  a  baby  now,  a  most  absurd,  silly  little  baby — don't 
talk  to  me,  Mrs.  Lambert,  I  am.  Only  there  is  this  to 
be  said,  he  don't  know  anything  about  it,  and  I  would 
rather  cut  my  tongue  out  than  tell  him." 

Dire  were  the  threats  with  which  Hetty  menaced 
Theo,  in  case  her  sister  should  betray  her.  As  for  the 
infantile  Charley,  his  mind  being  altogether  set  on 
cheese-cakes,  he  had  not  remarked  or  been  moved  by 
Miss  Hester's  emotion;  and  the  parents  and  the  kind 
sister  of  course  all  promised  not  to  reveal  the  little  maid's 
secret. 

"  I  begin  to  think  it  had  been  best  for  us  to  stay  at 
home,"  sighed  Mrs.  Lambert  to  her  husband. 

"  Nay,  my  dear,"  replied  the  other.  "  Human  nature 
will  be  human  nature;  surely  Hetty's  mother  told  me 
herself  that  she  had  the  beginning  of  a  liking  for  a  cer- 
tain young  curate  before  she  fell  over  head  and  heels  in 


430  THE  VIRGINIANS 

love  with  a  certain  young  officer  of  Kingsley's.  And  as 
for  me,  my  heart  was  wounded  in  a  dozen  places  ere  Miss 
Molly  Benson  took  entire  possession  of  it.  Our  sons 
and  daughters  must  follow  in  the  way  of  their  parents 
before  them,  I  suppose.  Why,  but  yesterday,  you  were 
scolding  me  for  grumbling  at  Miss  Het's  precocious 
fancies.  To  do  the  child  justice,  she  disguises  her 
feelings  entirely,  and  I  defy  Mr.  Warrington  to 
know  from  her  behaviour  how  she  is  disposed  towards 
him." 

"  A  daughter  of  mine  and  yours,  INIartin,"  cries  the 
mother  with  great  dignity,  "  is  not  going  to  fling  her- 
self at  a  gentleman's  head!  " 

"  Neither  herself  nor  the  teacup,  my  dear,"  answers 
the  Colonel.  "  Little  Miss  Het  treats  Mr.  Warrington 
like  a  vixen.  He  never  comes  to  us,  but  she  boxes  his 
ears  in  one  fashion  or  t'other.  I  protest  she  is  barely 
civil  to  him ;  but,  knowing  what  is  going  on  in  the  young 
hypocrite's  mind,  I  am  not  going  to  be  angry  at  her 
rudeness." 

"  She  hath  no  need  to  be  rude  at  all,  Martin;  and  our 
girl  is  good  enough  for  any  gentleman  in  England  or 
America.  Why,  if  their  ages  suit,  shouldn't  they  marry 
after  all,  sir? " 

"  Why,  if  he  wants  her,  shouldn't  he  ask  her,  my  dear? 
I  am  sorry  we  came.  I  am  for  putting  the  horses  into 
the  carriage,  and  turning  their  heads  towards  home 
again." 

But  mamma  fondly  said,  "  Depend  on  it,  my  dear, 
that  these  matters  are  wisely  ordained  for  us.  Depend 
upon  it,  Martin,  it  was  not  for  nothing  that  Harry 
Warrington  was  brought  to  our  gate  in  that  way;  and 
that  he  and  our  children  are  thus  brought  together  again. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  431 

If  that  marriage  has  been  decreed  in  heaven,  a  marriage 
it  will  be." 
t^  "  At  what  age,  Molly,  I  wonder,  do  women  begin  and 
leave  oiF  match-making?  If  our  little  chit  falls  in  love 
and  falls  out  again,  she  will  not  be  the  first  of  her  sex, 
Mrs.  Lambert.  I  wish  we  were  on  our  way  home  again, 
and,  if  I  had  my  will,  would  trot  off  this  very  night." 

"  He  has  promised  to  drink  his  tea  here  to-night. 
You  would  not  take  away  our  child's  pleasure,  Martin?  " 
asked  the  mother,  softly. 

In  his  fashion,  the  father  was  not  less  good-natured. 
*'  You  know,  my  dear,"  says  Lambert,  "  that  if  either 
of  'em  had  a  fancy  to  our  ears,  we  would  cut  them  off 
and  serve  them  in  a  fricassee." 

Mary  Lambert  laughed  at  the  idea  of  her  pretty  little 
delicate  ears  being  so  served.  When  her  husband  was 
most  tender-hearted,  his  habit  was  to  be  most  grotesque. 
When  he  pulled  the  pretty  little  delicate  ear,  behind 
which  the  matron's  fine  hair  was  combed  back,  wherein 
twinkled  a  shining  line  or  two  of  silver,  I  dare  say  he 
did  not  hurt  her  much.  I  dare  say  she  was  thinking 
of  the  soft,  well-remembered  times  of  her  own  modest 
youth  and  sweet  courtship.  Hallowed  remembrances 
of  sacred  times!  If  the  sight  of  youthful  love  is  pleas- 
ant to  behold,  how  much  more  charming  the  aspect  of 
the  affection  that  has  survived  years,  sorrows,  faded 
beauty  perhaps,  and  life's  doubts,  differences,  trouble! 

In  regard  to  her  promise  to  disguise  her  feelings  for 
Mr.  Warrington  in  that  gentleman's  presence.  Miss 
Hester  was  better,  or  worse,  if  you  will,  than  her  word. 
Harry  not  only  came  to  take  tea  with  his  friends,  but 
invited  them  for  the  next  day  to  an  entertainment  at 
the  Rooms,  to  be  given  in  their  special  honour. 


432  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"A  dance,  and  given  for  us!"  cries  Theo.  "Oh, 
Harry,  how  dehghtful;  I  wish  we  could  begin  this  very 
minute!  " 

"  Why,  for  a  savage  Virginian,  I  declare,  Harry 
Warrington,  thou  art  the  most  civilized  young  man 
possible!  "  says  the  Colonel.  "  My  dear,  shall  we  dance 
a  minuet  together? " 

"  We  have  done  such  a  thing  before,  Martin  Lam- 
bert! "  says  the  soldier's  fond  wife.  Her  husband  hums 
a  minuet  tune;  whips  a  plate  from  the  tea-table,  and 
makes  a  preparatory  bow  and  flourish  with  it  as  if  it 
were  a  hat,  whilst  madam  performs  her  best  curtsey. 

Only  Hetty,  of  the  party,  persists  in  looking  glum 
and  displeased.  "  Why,  child,  have  you  not  a  word  of 
thanks  to  throw  to  Mr.  Warrington?  "  asks  Theo  of  her 
sister. 

"  I  never  did  care  for  dancing  much,"  says  Hetty. 
"  What  is  the  use  of  standing  up  opposite  a  stupid  man, 
and  dancing  down  a  room  with  him?  " 

"  Merci  du  comijliment!  "  says  Mr.  Warrington. 

"  I  don't  say  that  you  are  stupid — that  is — that  is,  I 
—  I  only  meant  country  dances,"  says  Hetty,  biting  her 
lips,  as  she  caught  her  sister's  eye.  She  remembered  she 
had  said  Harry  was  stupid,  and  Theo's  droll  humorous 
glance  was  her  only  reminder. 

But  with  this  Miss  Hetty  chose  to  be  as  angry  as  if 
it  had  been  quite  a  cruel  rebuke.  "  I  hate  dancing — 
there — I  own  it,"  she  says,  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

"  Nay,  you  used  to  like  it  well  enough,  child!  "  inter- 
poses her  mother. 

"  That  was  when  she  was  a  child :  don't  you  see  she 
is  grown  up  to  be  an  old  woman?"  remarks  Hetty's 
father.    "  Or  perhaps  Miss  Hester  has  got  the  gout? " 


THE  VIRGINIANS  433 

"Fiddle!"  says  Hester,  snappishly,  drubbing  with 
her  little  feet. 
■^     "What's   a   dance   without   a   fiddle?"   says  imper- 
turbed  papa. 

Darkness  has  come  over  Harry  Warrington's  face. 
"  I  come  to  try  my  best,  and  give  them  pleasure  and 
a  dance,"  he  thinks,  "  and  the  little  thing  tells  me  she 
hates  dancing.  We  don't  practise  kindness  or  acknow- 
ledge hospitality  so  in  our  country.  No — nor  speak  to 
our  parents  so,  neither."  I  am  afraid,  in  this  particular, 
usages  have  changed  in  the  United  States  during  the 
last  hundred  years,  and  that  the  young  folks  there  are 
considerably  Hettificd. 

Not  content  with  this,  Miss  Hester  must  proceed  to 
make  such  fun  of  all  the  company  at  the  Wells,  and  es- 
pecially of  Harry's  own  immediate  pursuits  and  com- 
panions, that  the  honest  lad  was  still  farther  pained  at 
her  behaviour;  and,  Avhen  he  saw  Mrs.  Lambert  alone^ 
asked  how  or  in  what  he  had  again  offended,  that  Hester 
was  so  angry  with  him?  The  kind  matron  felt  more 
than  ever  well  disposed  towards  the  boy,  after  her 
daughter's  conduct  to  him.  She  would  have  liked  to 
tell  the  secret  which  Hester  hid  so  fiercely.  Theo,  too, 
remonstrated  with  her  sister  in  j^rivate;  but  Hester 
would  not  listen  to  the  subject,  and  was  as  angry  in  her 
bedroom,  when  the  girls  were  alone,  as  she  had  been  in 
the  parlour  before  her  motlier's  company.  "  Suppose 
he  hates  me?  "  says  she.  "  I  expect  he  will.  I  hate  my- 
self, I  do,  and  scorn  myself  for  being  such  an  idiot. 
How  ought  he  to  do  otherwise  tlian  hate  me?  Didn't  I 
abuse  him,  call  him  a  goose,  all  sorts  of  names?  And  I 
know  he  is  not  clever  all  the  time.  I  know  I  liave  better 
wits  than  he  has.    It  is  only  because  he  is  tall,  and  has 


434  THE  VIRGINIANS 

blue  eyes,  and  a  pretty  nose  that  I  like  him.  What  an 
absurd  fool  a  girl  must  be  to  like  a  man  merely  because 
he  has  a  blue  nose  and  hooked  eyes !  So  I  a7n  a  fool,  and 
I  won't  have  you  saj^  a  word  to  the  contrary,  Theo!  " 

Now  Theo  thought  that  her  little  sister,  far  from 
being  a  fool,  was  a  wonder  of  wonders,  and  that  if  any 
girl  was  worthy  of  any  prince  in  Christendom,  Hetty 
was  that  spinster.  "  You  are  silly  sometimes,  Hetty," 
says  Theo,  "  that  is  when  you  speak  unkindly  to  people 
who  mean  you  well,  as  you  did  to  Mr.  Warrington  at  tea 
to-night.  When  he  proposed  to  us  his  party  at  the 
'  Assembly  Rooms,'  and  nothing  could  be  more  gallant 
of  him,  why  did  you  say  you  didn't  care  for  music,  or 
dancing,  or  tea?    You  know  you  love  them  all!  " 

"  I  said  it  merely  to  vex  myself,  Theo,  and  annoy  my- 
self, and  whip  myself,  as  I  deserve,  child.  And,  besides, 
how  can  you  expect  such  an  idiot  as  I  am  to  say  anything 
but  idiotic  things?  Do  you  know  it  quite  j^leased  me 
to  see  him  angry.  I  thought,  Ah!  now  I  have  hurt  his 
feelings !  Now  he  will  say,  Hetty  Lambert  is  an  odious 
little  set-up,  sour-tempered  vixen.  And  that  will  teach 
him,  and  you,  and  mamma,  and  papa,  at  any  rate,  that  I 
am  not  going  to  set  my  cap  at  Mr.  Harry.  No;  our 
papa  is  ten  times  as  good  as  he  is.  I  will  stay  by  our 
papa,  and  if  he  asked  me  to  go  to  Virginia  with  him  to- 
morrow I  wouldn't,  Theo.  My  sister  is  worth  all  the 
Virginians  that  ever  were  made  since  the  world  began." 

And  here,  I  suppose,  follow  osculations  between  the 
sisters,  and  mother's  knock  comes  to  the  door,  who  has 
overheard  their  talk  through  the  wainscot,  and  calls  out, 
"  Children,  'tis  time  to  go  to  sleep."  Theo's  eyes  close 
speedily,  and  she  is  at  rest;  but  oh,  poor  little  Hetty! 
Think  of  the  hours  tolling  one  after  another,  and  the 


THE  VIRGINIANS  435 

child's  eyes  wide  open,  as  she  hes  tossing  and  wakeful 
with  the  anguish  of  the  new  wound ! 
^  "  It  is  a  judgment  upon  me,"  she  says,  "  for  having 
thought  and  spoke  scornfully  of  him.  Only,  why  should 
there  be  a  judgment  upon  me?  I  was  only  in  fun.  I 
knew  I  liked  him  very  much  all  the  time :  but  I  thought 
Theo  liked  him  too,  and  I  would  give  up  anything  for 
my  darling  Theo.  If  she  had,  no  tortures  should  ever 
have  drawn  a  word  from  me — I  would  have  got  a  rope- 
ladder  to  help  her  to  run  away  with  Harry,  that  I  would, 
or  fetched  the  clergvman  to  marry  them.  And  then  I 
w^ould  have  retired  alone,  and  alone,  and  alone,  and 
taken  care  of  papa  and  mamma,  and  of  the  poor  in  the 
village,  and  have  read  sermons,  though  I  hate  'em,  and 
have  died  without  telling  a  word — not  a  word — and  I 
shall  die  soon,  I  know  I  shall."  But  when  the  dawn 
rises,  the  little  maid  is  asleep,  nestling  by  her  sister,  the 
stain  of  a  tear  or  two  upon  her  flushed  downy  cheek. 

Most  of  us  play  with  edged  tools  at  some  period  of 
our  lives,  and  cut  ourselves  accordingly.  At  first  the 
cut  hurts  and  stings,  and  down  drops  the  knife,  and  we 
cry  out  like  wounded  little  babies  as  we  are.  Some  very, 
very  few  and  unlucky  folks  at  the  game  cut  their  heads 
sheer  off,  or  stab  themselves  mortally,  and  perish  out- 
right, and  there  is  an  end  of  them.  But, — heaven  hel]) 
us! — many  people  have  fingered  tliose  ardeiitcs  saii;ittas 
which  Ijove  sharpens  on  his  whetstone,  and  are  stabbed, 
scarred,  pricked,  perforated,  tattooed  all  over  with  the 
wounds,  who  recover,  and  live  to  be  quite  lively.  Wir 
audi  have  tasted  das  irdische  Gliick;  we  also  have  gclcht 
und—und  so  wetter.  Warble  your  death  song,  sweet 
Thekla!  Perish  off  the  face  of  the  earth,  poor  ])ul- 
monary  victim,  if  so  minded!     Had  you  survived  to  a 


436  THE  VIRGINIANS 

later  period  of  life,  my  dear,  you  would  have  thought  of 
a  sentimental  disappointment  without  any  reference  to 
the  undertaker.  Let  us  trust  there  is  no  present  need 
of  a  sexton  for  Miss  Hetty.  But  meanwhile,  the  very 
instant  she  wakes,  there,  tearing  at  her  little  heart,  will 
that  Care  be,  which  has  given  her  a  few  hours'  respite, 
melted,  no  doubt,  by  her  youth  and  her  tears. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 


IN    WHICH    MR.    WARRINGTON    TREATS   THE    COMPANY 
WITH    TEA   AND   A    BALL 

ENEROUS  with 
his  very  easily 
gotten  money, 
hospitable  and 
cordial  to  all,  our 
young  Virginian, 
in  his  capacity  of 
man  of  fashion, 
could  not  do  less 
than  treat  his 
country  friends 
to  an  entertain- 
ment at  the  As- 
sembly Rooms, 
whither,  accord- 
ing to  the  cus- 
tom of  the  day,  he  invited  almost  all  the  remaining  com- 
pany at  the  Wells.  Card-tables  were  set  in  one  apart- 
ment, for  all  those  who  could  not  spend  an  evening 
without  the  pastime  then  common  to  all  European  soci- 
ety: a  supper  with  champagne  in  some  profusion  and 
bowls  of  negus  was  prepared  in  another  chamber:  the 
large  assembly  room  was  set  apart  for  the  dance,  of 
which  enjoyment  Harry  Warrington's  guests  partook 

43T 


438  THE  VIRGINIANS 

in  our  ancestors'  homely  fashion.  I  cannot  fancy  that 
the  amusement  was  especially  lively.  First,  minuets 
were  called;  two  or  three  of  which  were  performed  by 
as  many  couple.  The  sjDinsters  of  the  highest  rank  in 
the  assembly  went  out  for  the  minuet,  and  my  Lady 
IMaria  Esmond  being  an  earl's  daughter,  and  the  person 
,  of  the  highest  rank  present  ( with  the  exception  of  Lady 
Augusta  Crutchley,  who  was  lame),  Mr.  Warrington 
danced  the  first  minuet  with  his  cousin,  acquitting  him- 
self to  the  satisfaction  of  the  whole  room,  and  perform- 
ing much  more  elegantly  than  Mr.  Wolfe,  who  stood 
up  with  Miss  Lowther.  Having  completed  the  dance 
with  Lady  Maria,  Mr.  Warrington  begged  Miss  Hetty 
to  do  him  the  honour  of  walking  the  next  minuet,  and 
accordingly  Miss  Hetty,  blushing  and  looking  very 
happy,  went  through  her  exercise  to  the  great  delight 
of  her  parents  and  the  rage  of  Miss  Humpleby,  Sir 
John  Humpleby's  daughter,  of  Liphook,  who  expected, 
at  least,  to  have  stood  up  next  after  my  Lady  Maria. 
Then,  after  the  minuets,  came  country  dances,  the  music 
being  performed  by  a  harp,  fiddle,  and  flageolet; 
perched  in  a  little  balcony,  and  thrumming  through  the 
evening  rather  feeble  and  melancholy  tunes.  Take  up 
an  old  book  of  music,  and  play  a  few  of  those  tunes 
now,  and  one  wonders  how  people  at  any  time  could 
have  found  the  airs  otherwise  than  melanchoh".  And 
yet  they  loved  and  frisked  and  laughed  and  courted  to 
that  sad  accompaniment.  There  is  scarce  one  of  the 
airs  that  has  not  an  amari  aliquid,  a  tang  of  sadness. 
Perhaps  it  is  because  they  are  old  and  defunct,  and  their 
plaintive  echoes  call  out  to  us  from  the  limbo  of  the 
past,  whither  they  have  been  consigned  for  this  century. 
Perhaps  they  voere  gay  when  they  were  alive;   and  our 


THE  VIRGINIANS  439 

descendants  when  they  hear — well,  never  mind  names — 
when  they  hear  the  works  of  certain  maestri  now  popu- 
-*lar,  will  say:   Bon  Dieu,  is  this  the  music  which  amused 
our  forefathers? 

ISlr.  Warrington  had  the  honour  of  a  duchess's  com- 
pany at  his  tea-drinking — Colonel  Lambert's  and  JNIr. 
Prior's  heroine,  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry.  And 
though  the  duchess  carefully  turned  her  back  upon  a 
countess  who  was  present,  laughed  loudly,  glanced  at 
the  latter  over  her  shoulder,  and  pointed  at  her  with  her 
fan,  yet  almost  all  the  company  pushed,  and  bowed,  and 
cringed,  and  smiled,  and  backed  before  this  countess, 
scarcely  taking  any  notice  of  her  Grace  of  Queensberry 
and  her  jokes,  and  her  fan,  and  her  airs.  Now  this 
countess  was  no  other  than  the  Countess  of  Yarmouth- 
Walmoden,  the  lady  whom  his  INIajesty  George  the 
Second,  of  Great  Britain,  France,  and  Ireland,  King, 
Defender  of  the  Faith,  delighted  to  honour.  She  had 
met  Harry  Warrington  in  the  walks  that  morning,  and 
had  been  mighty  gracious  to  the  young  Virginian.  She 
had  told  him  they  would  have  a  game  at  cards  that  night ; 
and  purblind  old  Colonel  Blinkinsop,  who  fancied  the 
invitation  had  been  addressed  to  him,  had  made  the  pro- 
foundest  of  bows.  "Pooli!  pooh!"  said  the  Countess 
of  England  and  Hanover,  "  I  don't  mean  you.  I  mean 
the  young  Firshinian!  "  And  everybody  congratulated 
the  youth  on  his  good  fortune.  At  niglit,  all  tlie  world, , 
in  order  to  show  tlieir  loyalty  doubtless,  thronged  round 
my  Lady  Yarmouth;  my  Lord  Bamborough  was  eager 
to  make  her  partie  at  quadrille;  my  I^ady  Blanche  Pen- 
dragon,  that  model  of  virtue;  Sir  liancelot  Quintain, 
that  pattern  of  knighthood  and  valour;  INTr.  Dean  of 
Ealing,  that  exemplary  divine  and  preacher;   numerous 


440  THE  VIRGINIANS 

gentlemen,  noblemen,  generals,  colonels,  matrons,  and 
spinsters  of  the  highest  rank,  were  on  the  watch  for  a 
smile  from  her,  or  eager  to  jump  up  and  join  her  card- 
table.  Lady  Maria  waited  upon  her  with  meek  respect, 
and  Madame  de  Bernstein  treated  the  Hanoverian  lady 
with  profound  gravity  and  courtesy. 

Harry's  bow  had  been  no  lower  than  hospitality  re- 
quired; but  such  as  it  was.  Miss  Hester  chose  to  be 
indignant  with  it.  She  scarce  spoke  a  word  to  her  part- 
ner during  their  dance  together;  and  when  he  took  her 
to  the  supper-room  for  refreshment  she  was  little  more 
communictitive.  To  enter  that  room  they  had  to  pass 
by  JMadame  Walmoden's  card-table,  who  good-natur- 
edly called  out  to  her  host  as  he  was  passing,  and  asked 
him  if  his  "  breddy  liddle  bardner  liked  tanzing?  " 

"  I  thank  your  ladyship,  I  don't  like  tanzing,  and  I 
don't  like  cards,"  says  Miss  Hester,  tossing  up  her  head ; 
and,  dropping  a  curtsey  like  a  "  cheese,"  she  strutted 
away  from  the  countess's  table. 

Mr.  Warrington  was  very  much  offended.  Sarcasm 
from  the  young  to  the  old  pained  him:  flippant  be- 
haviour towards  himself  hurt  him.  Courteous  in  his 
simple  way  to  all  persons  whom  he  met,  he  expected  a 
like  politeness  from  them.  Hetty  perfectly  well  knew 
what  offence  she  was  giving;  could  mark  the  displea- 
sure reddening  on  her  partner's  honest  face,  with  a  side- 
long glance  of  her  eye;  nevertheless  she  tried  to  wear 
her  most  ingenuous  smile;  and,  as  she  came  up  to  the 
side-board  where  the  refreshments  were  set,  artlessly 
said: — 

"  What  a  horrid,  vulgar  old  woman  that  is ;  don't  you 
think  so?" 

"  What  woman?  "  asked  the  young  man. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  441 

"  That   German  woman— my  Lady   Yarmouth— to 
whom  all  the  men  are  bowing  and  cringing." 
^     "  Her  ladyship   has    been  very   kind   to  me,"   says 
Harry,  grimly.     "  Won't  you  have  some  of  this  cus- 
tard?" 

"  And  you  have  been  bowing  to  her,  too!  You  look 
as  if  your  negus  was  not  nice,"  harmlessly  continues 
Miss  Hetty. 

"  It  is  not  very  good  negus,"  says  Harry,  with  a 
gulp. 

"  And  the  custard  is  bad  too!  I  declare  'tis  made  with 
bad  eggs! "  cries  Miss  Lambert. 

"  I  wish,  Hester,  that  the  entertainment  and  the 
company  had  been  better  to  your  liking,"  says  poor 
Harry. 

"  'Tis  very  unfortunate ;  but  I  dare  say  you  could 
not  help  it,"  cries  the  young  woman,  tossing  her  little 
curly  head. 

Mr.  Warrington  groaned  in  spirit,  perhaps  in  body, 
and  clenched  his  fists  and  his  teeth.  The  little  torturer 
artlessly  continued,  "  You  seem  disturbed:  shall  we  go 
to  my  mamma?  " 

"  Yes,  let  us  go  to  your  mamma,"  cries  Mr.  Warring- 
ton, with  glaring  ej^es  and  a  "  Curse  you,  why  are  you 
alwaj'S  standing  in  the  way?  "  to  an  unlucky  waiter. 

"  La!  Is  that  the  way  you  speak  in  Virginia? "  asks 
Miss  Pertness. 

*'  We  are  rough  there  sometimes,  madam,  and  can't 
help  being  disturbed,"  he  says  slowly,  and  with  a  quiver 
in  his  whole  frame,  looking  down  upon  her  with  fire 
flashing  out  of  his  eyes.  Hetty  saw  nothing  distinctly 
afterwards,  and  until  she  came  to  her  mother.  Never 
had  she  seen  Harry  look  so  handsome  or  so  noble. 


442  THE  VIRGINIANS 


"  ^r. 


You  look  pale,  child!  "  cries  mamma,  anxious,  like 
all  jJavidce  matres. 

"  'Tis  the  cold— no,  I  mean  the  heat.  Thank  you, 
]Mr.  Warrington."  And  she  makes  him  a  faint  curtsey, 
as  Harry  bows  a  tremendous  bow,  and  walks  elsewhere 
amongst  his  guests.  He  hardly  knows  what  is  happen- 
ing at  first,  so  angry  is  he. 

He  is  aroused  by  another  altercation  between  his  aunt 
and  the  Duchess  of  Queensberry.  When  the  royal 
favourite  passed  the  Duchess,  her  grace  gave  her  lady- 
ship an  awful  stare  out  of  eyes  that  were  not  so  bright 
now  as  they  had  been  in  the  young  days  when  they  "  set 
the  world  on  fire;  "  turned  round  with  an  affected  laugh 
to  her  neighbour,  and  shot  at  the  jolly  Hanoverian  lady 
a  ceaseless  fire  of  giggles  and  sneers.  The  Countess 
pursued  her  game  at  cards,  not  knowing,  or  not  choos- 
ing, perhaps,  to  know,  how  her  enemy  was  gibing  at  her. 
There  had  been  a  feud  of  many  years'  date  between  their 
Graces  of  Queensberry  and  the  family  on  the  throne. 

"  How  you  all  bow  down  to  the  idol!  Don't  tell  me! 
You  are  as  bad  as  the  rest,  my  good  Madame  Bern- 
stein! "  the  Duchess  says.  "  Ah,  what  a  true  Christian 
country  this  is!  and  how  your  dear  first  husband,  the 
Bishop,  would  have  liked  to  see  such  a  sight!  " 

"  Forgive  me,  if  I  fail  quite  to  understand  your 
Grace." 

"  We  are  both  of  us  growing  old,  my  good  Bernstein, 
or,  perhaps,  we  won't  understand  when  we  don't  choose 
to  understand.  That  is  the  way  with  us  women,  my 
good  young  Iroquois." 

"  Your  Grace  remarked,  that  it  was  a  Christian  coun- 
try," said  Madame  de  Bernstein,  "  and  I  failed  to  per- 
ceive the  point  of  the  remark." 


THE  VIRGINIANS  443 

"  Indeed,  my  good  creature,  there  is  very  little  point 
in  it!  I  meant  we  were  such  good  Christians,  because 
:.we  were  so  forgiving.  Don't  you  remember  reading, 
when  you  were  young,  or  your  husband  the  Bishop 
reading,  when  he  was  in  the  pulpit,  how,  when  a  woman 
amongst  the  Jews  was  caught  doing  wrong,  the  Phari- 
sees were  for  stoning  her  out  of  hand  ?  Far  from  stoning 
such  a  woman  now,  look,  how  fond  we  are  of  her !  Any 
man  in  this  room  would  go  round  it  on  his  knees  if  yon- 
der woman  bade  him.  Yes,  Madam  Walmoden,  you  may 
look  up  from  your  cards  with  your  great  painted  face, 
and  frown  with  your  great  painted  eyebrows  at  me.  You 
know  I  am  talking  about  you;  and  I  intend  to  go  on 
talking  about  you,  too.  I  say  any  man  here  would  go 
round  the  room  on  his  knees,  if  you  bade  him!  " 

"I  think,  INIadam,  I  know  two  or  three  who  wouldn't!" 
says  ]Mr.  Warrington,  with  some  spirit. 

"  Quick,  let  me  hug  them  to  my  hearts  of  hearts!" 
cries  the  old  Duchess.  "  Which  are  they?  Bring  'em 
to  me,  my  dear  Iroquois!  Let  us  have  a  game  of  four — 
of  honest  men  and  women ;  that  is  to  say,  if  we  can  find 
a  couple  more  partners,  Mr.  Warrington!  " 

"  Here  are  we  three,"  says  the  Baroness  Bernstein, 
with  a  forced  laugh;  "  let  us  play  a  dummy." 

"Pray,  Madam,  where  is  the  third?"  asks  the  old 
Duchess,  looking  round. 

"  Madam!  "  cries  out  the  other  elderly  lady,  "  I  leave 
your  Grace  to  ])oast  of  your  honesty,  which  I  have  no 
doubt  is  spotless:  but  I  will  thank  you  not  to  doubt  mine 
before  my  own  relatives  and  children!  " 

*'  See  how  she  fires  up  at  a  word!  I  am  sure,  my  dear 
creature,  you  are  cjuite  as  honest  as  most  of  the  com- 
pany," says  the  Duchess. 


444  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  Which  may  not  be  good  enough  for  her  Grace  the 
Duchess  of  Queensberry  and  Dover,  who,  to  be  sure, 
might  have  stayed  away  in  such  a  case,  but  it  is  the  best 
my  nephew  could  get,  ^ladam,  and  his  best  he  has  given 
you.  You  look  astonished,  Harry,  my  dear— and  well 
you  may.    He  is  not  used  to  our  ways,  Madam." 

"  ^ladam,  he  has  found  an  aunt  who  can  teach  him 
our  ways,  and  a  great  deal  more!"  cries  the  Duchess, 
rapping  her  fan. 

"  She  will  teach  him  to  try  and  make  all  his  guests 
welcome,  old  or  young,  rich  or  poor.  That  is  the  Vir- 
ginian way,  isn't  it,  Harry?  She  will  tell  him,  when 
Catherine  Hyde  is  angry  with  his  old  aunt,  that  they 
were  friends  as  girls,  and  ought  not  to  quarrel  now  they 
are  old  women.  And  she  will  not  be  wrong,  will  she. 
Duchess?"  And  herewith  the  one  dowager  made  a 
superb  curtsey  to  the  other,  and  the  battle  just  impend- 
ing between  them  passed  away. 

"Egad,  it  was  like  Byng  and  Galissoniere !  "  cried 
Chaplain  Sampson,  as  Harry  talked  over  the  night's 
transactions  with  his  tutor  next  morning.  "  No  power 
on  earth,  I  thought,  could  have  prevented  those  two 
from  going  into  action!  " 

"Seventy-fours  at  least— both  of  'em!"  laughs 
Harry. 

"  But  the  Baroness  declined  the  battle,  and  sailed  out 
of  fire  with  inimitable  skill." 

"Why  should  she  be  afraid?  I  have  heard  you  say 
my  aunt  is  as  witty  as  any  woman  alive,  and  need  fear 
the  tongue  of  no  dowager  in  England." 

"  Hem!  Perhaps  she  had  good  reasons  for  being 
peaceable!  "  Sampson  knew  very  well  what  they  were, 
and  that  poor  Bernstein's  reputation  was  so  hopelessly 


THE  VIRGINIANS  445 

flawed    and    cracked,    that    any    sarcasms    levelled    at 
IMadame  Walmoden  were  equally  applicable  to  her. 
cS:     "  Sir,"  cried  Harry,  in  great  amazement,  "  you  don't 
mean  to  say  there  is  anything  against  the  character  of 
my  aunt,  the  Baroness  de  Bernstein!" 

The  Chaplain  looked  at  the  young  Virginian  with 
such  an  air  of  utter  wonderment,  that  the  latter  saw 
there  must  be  some  history  against  his  aunt,  and  some 
charge  which  Sampson  did  not  choose  to  reveal.  "  Great 
heavens!  "  Harry  groaned  out,  "  are  there  two  then  in 
the  family,  who  are — " 

"  Which  two?  "  asked  the  Chaplain. 

But  here  Harry  stopped,  blushing  very  red.  He  re- 
membered, and  we  shall  presently  have  to  state,  whence 
he  had  got  his  information  regarding  the  other  family 
culprit,  and  bit  his  lip,  and  w^as  silent. 

"  Bygones  are  always  unpleasant  things,  Mr.  War- 
rington," said  the  Chaplain;  "  and  we  had  best  hold  our 
peace  regarding  them.  No  man  or  woman  can  live 
long  in  this  wicked  world  of  ours  without  some  scandal 
attaching  to  them,  and  I  fear  our  excellent  Baroness  has 
been  no  more  fortunate  than  her  neighboin-s.  We  can- 
not escape  calumny,  my  dear  young  friend!  You  have 
had  sad  proof  enough  of  that  in  your  brief  stay  amongst 
us.  But  we  can  liave  clear  consciences,  and  tliat  is  the 
main  point!"  And  herewith  the  Chaplain  threw  his 
handsome  eyes  upward,  and  tried  to  look  as  if  his  con- 
science was  as  white  as  the  ceiling. 

"  Has  tliere  been  anything  very  wrong,  then,  about 
my  Aunt  Bernstein?"  continued  Harry,  remembering 
how  at  home  liis  mother  had  never  spoken  of  the  Bar- 
oness. 

"  O  sancta  wnjdicitas! "  the  Chaplain  muttered  to 


44G  THE  VIRGINIANS 

himself.  "  Stories,  my  dear  sir,  much  older  than  your 
time  or  mine.  Stories  such  as  were  told  about  every- 
body, de  me,  de  te;  you  know  with  what  degree  of  truth 
in  your  own  case." 

"  Confound  the  villain !  I  should  like  to  hear  any 
scoundrel  say  a  word  against  the  dear  old  lady,"  cries 
the  young  gentleman.  "  Why,  this  world,  parson,  is 
full  of  lies  and  scandal! " 

"  And  you  are  just  beginning  to  find  it  out,  my  dear 
sir,"  cries  the  clergyman,  with  his  most  beatified  air. 
"  Whose  character  has  not  been  attacked?  My  lord's, 
yours,  mine, — everyone's.  We  must  bear  as  well  as  we 
can,  and  pardon  to  the  utmost  of  our  power." 

"You  may.  It's  your  cloth,  you  know;  but,  by 
George,  I  won't!"  cries  Mr.  Warrington,  and  again 
goes  down  the  fist  with  a  thump  on  the  table.  "  Let 
any  fellow  say  a  word  in  my  hearing  against  that  dear 
old  creature,  and  I'll  pull  his  nose,  as  sure  as  my  name  is 
Henry  Esmond.  How  do  you  do.  Colonel  Lambert. 
You  find  us  late  again,  sir.  Me  and  his  Reverence  kept 
it  up  pretty  late  with  some  of  the  young  fellows,  after 
the  ladies  went  away.  I  hope  the  dear  ladies  are  well, 
sir?  "  and  here  Harry  rose,  greeting  his  friend  the  Colo- 
nel very  kindly,  who  had  come  to  pay  him  a  morning 
visit,  and  had  entered  the  room  followed  by  Mr.  Gumbo 
(the  latter  preferred  walking  very  leisurely  about 
all  the  affairs  of  life),  just  as  Harry— suiting  the 
action    to    the    word — was     tweaking    the     nose     of 

Calumny. 

"  The  ladies  are  purely.  Whose  nose  were  you  pull- 
ing when  I  came  in,  Mr.  Warrington? "  says  the  Colo- 
nel, laughing. 

"  Isn't  it  a  shame,  sir?    The  parson,  here,  was  telling 


THE  VIRGINIANS  447 

me,  that  there  are  villains  here  who  attack  the  character 
^of  my  aunt,  the  Baroness  of  Bernstein!  " 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  so!  "  cries  Mr.  Lambert. 

"I  tell  Mr.  Harry  that  everybody  is  calumniated!" 
saj's  the  Chaplain,  with  a  clerical  intonation ;  but,  at  the 
same  time,  he  looks  at  Colonel  Lambert  and  winks,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  He  knows  nothing— keep  him  in  the 
dark." 

The  Colonel  took  the  hint.  "  Yes,"  says  he,  "  the  jaws 
of  slander  are  for  ever  wagging.  Witness  that  story 
about  the  dancing-girl,  that  we  all  believed  against  you, 
Harry  Warrington." 

"What  all,  sir?" 

"No,  not  all.  One  didn't— Hetty  didn't.  You 
should  have  heard  her  standing  up  for  you,  Harry, 
t'other  day,  when  somebody— a  little  bird— brought  us 
another  story  about  you ;  about  a  game  of  cards  on  Sun- 
day morning,  when  you  and  a  friend  of  yours  might 
have  been  better  employed."  And  here  there  was  a 
look  of  mingled  humour  and  reproof  at  the  clergyman. 

"  Faith,  I  own  it,  sir!  "  says  the  Chaplain.  "  It  was 
mea  culpaj,  mea  maxima — no,  mea  minima  culpa,  only 
the  rehearsal  of  an  old  game  at  picquet,  which  we  had 
been  talking  over." 

"And  did  Miss  Hester  stand  up  for  me?"  says 
Harry. 

"  Miss  Hester  did.  But  why  that  wondering  look?  " 
asks  the  Colonel. 

"  She  scolded  me  last  night  like— like  anything,"  says 
downright  Harry.  "  I  never  heard  a  young  girl  go  on 
so.  vShe  made  fun  of  everybody— hit  about  at  young 
and  old— so  that  I  couldn't  help  telling  her,  sir,  that 
in  our  country,  leastways  in  Virginia    (they  say  the 


448  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Yankees  are  very  pert),  young  people  don't  speak  of 
their  elders  so.  And,  do  you  know,  sir,  we  had  a  sort 
of  a  quarrel,  and  I'm  very  glad  you've  told  me  she  spoke 
kindly  of  me,"  says  Harry,  shaking  his  friend's  hand, 
a  ready  boyish  emotion  glowing  in  his  cheeks  and  in 
his  eyes. 

"  You  won't  come  to  much  hurt  if  you  find  no  worse 
enemy  than  Hester,  Mr.  Warrington,"  said  the  girl's 
father,  gravely,  looking  not  without  a  deep  thrill  of  in- 
terest at  the  flushed  face  and  moist  eyes  of  his  young 
friend.  "Is  he  fond  of  her?"  thought  the  Colonel. 
"  And  how  fond?  'Tis  evident  he  knows  nothing,  and 
Miss  Het  has  been  performing  some  of  her  tricks.  He 
is  a  fine  honest  lad,  and  God  bless  him."  And  Colo- 
nel Lambert  looked  towards  Harry  with  that  manly, 
friendly  kindness  which  our  lucky  young  Virginian  was 
not  unaccustomed  to  inspire,  for  he  was  comely  to  look 
at,  prone  to  blush,  to  kindle,  nay,  to  melt,  at  a  kind 
story.  His  laughter  was  cheery  to  hear:  his  eyes  shone 
confidently:   his  voice  spoke  truth. 

"And  the  young  lady  of  the  minuet?  She 
distinguished  herself  to  perfection:  the  whole  room 
admired,"  asked  the  courtly  Chaplain.  "  I  trust  Miss 
-Miss-" 

"  Miss  Theodosia  is  perfectly  well,  and  ready  to  dance 
at  this  minute  with  your  Reverence,"  says  her  father. 
"  Or  stay.  Chaplain,  perhaps  j^ou  only  dance  on  .Sun- 
day?" The  Colonel  then  turned  to  Harry  again. 
"  You  paid  your  court  very  neatly  to  the  great  lady, 
Mr.  Flatterer.  ^ly  Lady  Yarmouth  has  been  trumpet- 
ing your  praises  at  the  Pump  Room.  She  says  she  has 
got  a  leedel  boy  in  Hanover  dat  is  wery  like  you,  and 
you  are  a  sharming  young  mans." 


WJ. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  449 

"  If  her  ladyship  were  a  queen,  people  could  scarcely 
be  more  respectful  to  her,"  says  the  Chaplain. 

"  Let  us  call  her  a  vice-queen,  parson,"  says  the  Colo- 
nel, with  a  twinkle  of  his  eye. 

"  Her  Majesty  pocketed  forty  of  my  guineas,  at 
quadrille,"  cries  JNIr.  Warrington,  with  a  laugh. 

"  She  will  play  you  on  the  same  terms  another  day. 
The  Countess  is  fond  of  play,  and  she  wins  from  most 
people,"  said  the  Colonel,  drily.  "  Why  don't  you  bet 
her  ladyship  five  thousand  on  a  bishopric,  parson?  I 
have  heard  of  a  clergyman  who  made  such  a  bet,  and 
who  lost  it,  and  who  jDaid  it,  and  who  got  the  bishopric." 

"All!  who  will  lend  me  the  five  thousand  ?  Will  you, 
sir?  "  asked  the  Chaplain. 

"  No,  sir.  I  won't  give  her  five  thousand  to  be  made 
Commander-in-Chief  or  Pope  of  Rome,"  says  the  Colo- 
nel, stoutly.  "  I  shall  fling  no  stones  at  the  woman; 
but  I  shall  bow  no  knee  to  her,  as  I  see  a  pack  of  rascals 
do.  No  oifence — I  don't  mean  you.  And  I  don't  mean 
Harry  Warrington,  who  was  quite  right  to  be  civil  to 
her,  and  to  lose  his  money  with  good  humour.  Harry,  I 
am  come  to  bid  thee  farewell,  my  boy.  We  have  had  our 
pleasuring — my  money  is  run  out,  and  we  must  jog 
back  to  Oakhurst.  Will  you  ever  come  and  see  the  old 
place  again?  " 

"Now,  sir,  now!  I'll  ride  back  with  you!"  cries 
Harry,  eagerly. 

"  Why — no — not  now,"  saj^s  the  Colonel,  in  a  hurried 
manner.  "  We  haven't  got  room — that  is,  we're — we're 
expecting  some  friends."  ["  The  I^ord  forgive  me  for 
the  lie!"  he  mutters.]  "  But— but  you'll  come  to  us 
when — when  Tom's  at  home — yes,  when  Tom's  at  home. 
That  '^'ill  be  famous  fun— ajod  I'd  have  you  to  know,  sir. 


450  THE  VIRGINIANS 

that  my  wife  and  I  love  you  sincerely,  sir— and  so  do  the 
girls,  however  much  they  scold  you.  And  if  you  ever 
are  in  a  scrape— and  such  things  have  happened,  Mr. 
Chaplain!— you  will  please  to  count  upon  me.  Mind 
that,  sir! " 

And  the  Colonel  was  for  taking  leave  of  Harry  then 
and  there,  on  the  spot,  but  the  young  man  followed  him 
down  the  stairs,  and  insisted  upon  saying  good-by  to  his 
dear  ladies. 

Instead,  however,  of  proceeding  immediately  to  Mr. 
Lambert's  lodging,  the  two  gentlemen  took  the  direc- 
tion of  the  common,  where,  looking  from  Harry's  win- 
dows, Mr.  Sampson  saw  the  pair  in  earnest  conversa- 
tion. First,  Lambert  smiled  and  looked  roguish.  Then, 
presently,  at  a  farther  stage  of  the  talk,  he  flung  up 
both  his  hands  and  performed  other  gestures  indicating 
surprise  and  agitation. 

"  The  boy  is  telling  him,"  thought  the  Chaplain. 
When  Mr.  Warrington  came  back  in  an  hour,  he  found 
his  Reverence  deep  in  the  composition  of  a  sermon. 
Harry's  face  was  grave  and  melancholy;  he  flung  down 
his  hat,  buried  himself  in  a  great  chair,  and  then  came 
from  his  lips  something  like  an  execration. 

"  The  young  ladies  are  going,  and  our  heart  is  af- 
fected? "  said  the  Chaplain,  looking  up  from  his  manu- 
script. 

"  Heart!  "  sneered  Harry. 

"  Which  of  the  young  ladies  is  the  conqueror,  sir? 
I  thought  the  youngest's  eyes  followed  you  about  at 

your  ball." 

"  Confound  the  little  termagant!  "  broke  out  Harry. 
"What  does  she  mean  by  being  so  pert  to  me?  She 
treats  me  as  if  I  was  a  fool !  " 


f     -  2  ^ /' Ki '^.  ^" -  .^£    ■,  tiin 


A  Vice  Queen 


THE  VIRGINIANS  451 

"  And  no  man  is,  sir,  with  a  woman!  "  said  the  scribe 
of  the  sermon. 
t^     "  Ain't  they,  Chaplain?  "     And  Harry  growled  out 
more  naughty  words  expressive  of  inward  disquiet. 

"  By  the  way,  have  you  heard  anything  of  your  lost 
property?  "  asked  the  Chaplain,  presently  looking  up 
from  his  pages. 

Harry  said,  "  No!  "  with  another  word  which  I  would 
not  print  for  the  world. 

"  I  begin  to  suspect,  sir,  that  there  was  more  money 
than  you  like  to  own  in  that  book.  I  wish  I  could  find 
some." 

"  There  were  notes  in  it,"  said  Harry,  very  gloomily, 
"  and — and  papers  that  I  am  very  sorry  to  lose.  What 
the  deuce  has  come  of  it?  I  had  it  when  we  dined  to- 
gether." 

"  I  saw  you  put  it  in  your  pocket!  "  cried  the  Chap- 
lain. "  I  saw  you  take  it  out  and  pay  at  the  toy-shop 
a  bill  for  a  gold  thimble  and  work-box  for  one  of 
your  young  ladies.     Of  course  you  have  asked  there, 

SUM 

"  Of  course  I  have,"  says  ]\Ir.  Warrington,  plunged 
in  melancholy. 

"  Gumbo  put  you  to  bed,  at  least,  if  I  remember  right. 
I  was  so  cut  myself  that  I  scarce  remember  anything. 
Can  you  trust  those  black  fellows,  sir?  " 

"  I  can  trust  him  with  my  head.  Witli  my  head?  " 
groaned  out  Mr.  Warrington,  bitterly.  "  I  can't  trust 
myself  with  it." 

Oh  that  a  man  should  put  an  enemy  into  his  mouth 
to  steal  away  his  brains! 

"  You  may  well  call  it  an  enemy,  Chaplain.  Hang  it, 
I  have  a  great  mind  to  make  a  vow  never  to  drink  an- 


452  THE  VIRGINIANS 

other  drop!  A  fellow  says  anything  when  he  is  in 
drink." 

The  Chaplain  laughed.  "  You,  sir,"  he  said,  "are 
close  enough!"  And  the  truth  was,  that,  for  the  last 
few  days,  no  amount  of  wine  would  unseal  IMr.  War- 
rington's lips,  when  the  artless  Sampson  by  chance 
touched  on  the  subject  of  his  patron's  loss. 

"  And  so  the  little  country  nymphs  are  gone,  or  go- 
ing, sir?  "  asked  the  Chaplain.  "  They  were  nice,  fresh 
little  things;  but  I  think  the  mother  was  the  finest 
woman  of  the  three.  I  declare,  a  woman  at  five-and- 
thirty  or  so  is  at  her  prime.    What  do  you  say,  sir?  " 

Mr.  Warrington  looked,  for  a  moment,  askance  at  the 
clergyman.  "  Confound  all  women,  I  say!"  muttered 
the  young  misogynist.  For  which  sentiment  every  well- 
conditioned  person  will  surely  rebuke  him. 


^^ 


CHAPTER  XXXV 


ENTANGLEMENTS 


UR  good  Colonel  had,  no 
doubt,  taken  counsel  with 
his  good  wife,  and  they 
had  determined  to  re- 
move their  little  Het- 
ty as  speedily  as  pos- 
sible out  of  the  reach 
of  the  charmer.  In 
complaints  such  as 
that  under  which  the 
poor  little  maiden 
'  was  supposed  to  be 
suffering,  the  remedy 
of  absence  and  distance 
often  acts  effectually  with  men;  but  I  believe  wo- 
men are  not  so  easily  cured  by  the  alibi  treatment. 
Some  of  them  will  go  away  ever  so  far,  and  for  ever 
so  long,  and  the  obstinate  disease  hangs  by  them,  spite  of 
distance  or  climate.  You  may  whip,  abuse,  torture,  in- 
sult them,  and  still  the  little  deluded  creatures  will  per- 
sist in  their  fidelity.  Nay,  if  I  may  speak,  after  pro- 
found and  extensive  study  and  observation,  there  are 
few  better  ways  of  securing  the  faithfulness  and  ad- 
miration of  the  beautiful  partners  of  our  existence  than 
a  little  judicious  ill  treatment,  a  brisk  dose  of  occasional 

453 


454  THE  VIRGINIANS 

violence  as  an  alterative,  and,  for  general  and  wholesome 
diet,  a  cooling  but  pretty  constant  neglect.  At  sparing 
intervals,  administer  small  quantities  of  love  and  kind- 
ness; but  not  every  day,  or  too  often,  as  this  medicine, 
much  taken,  loses  its  effect.  Those  dear  creatures  who 
are  the  most  indifferent  to  their  husbands,  are  those  who 
are  cloyed  by  too  much  surfeiting  of  the  sugarplums  and 
lollipops  of  Love.  I  have  known  a  young  being,  with 
every  wish  gratified,  yawn  in  her  adoring  husband's  face, 
and  prefer  the  conversation  and  petits  soins  of  the  merest 
booby  and  idiot;  whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  I  have  seen 
Chloe, — at  whom  Strephon  has  flung  his  bootjack  in  the 
morning,  or  whom  he  has  cursed  before  the  servants  at 
dinner, — come  creeping  and  fondling  to  his  knee  at  tea- 
time,  when  he  is  comfortable  after  his  little  nap  and  his 
good  wine ;  and  pat  his  head  and  play  him  his  favourite 
tunes;  and,  when  old  John  the  butler,  or  old  Mary  the 
maid,  comes  in  with  the  bed-candles,  look  round  proudly, 
as  much  as  to  say.  Now,  John,  look  how  good  my  dearest 
Henry  is !  Make  your  game,  gentlemen,  then !  There  is 
the  coaxing,  fondling,  adoring  line,  when  you  are  hen- 
pecked, and  Louisa  is  indifferent,  and  bored  out  of  her 
existence.  There  is  the  manly,  selfish,  effectual  system, 
where  she  answers  to  the  whistle;  and  comes  in  at 
"  Down  Charge;  "  and  knows  her  master;  and  frisks  and 
fawns  about  him;  and  nuzzles  at  his  knees;  and  "  licks 
the  hand  that's  raised  " — that's  raised  to  do  her  good,  as 
(I  quote  from  memory)  Mr.  Pope  finely  observes. 
What  used  the  late  lamented  O'Connell  to  say,  over 
whom  a  grateful  country  has  raised  such  a  magnificent 
testimonial?  "  Hereditary  bondsmen,"  he  used  to  re- 
mark, "  know  ye  not,  who  would  be  free,  themselves 
must  strike  the  blow?  "    Of  course  you  must,  in  political 


.  THE  VIRGINIANS  455 

as  in  domestic  circles.  So  up  with  j^our  cudgels,  my 
enslaved,  injured  boj^s! 
^  Women  will  be  j)leased  with  these  remarks,  because 
they  have  such  a  taste  for  humour  and  understand  irony ; 
and  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  young  Grubstreet,  who 
corresponds  with  three  penny  papers  and  describes  the 
persons  and  conversation  of  gentlemen  whom  he  meets 
at  his  "  clubs,"  will  say,  "  I  told  you  so!  He  advocates 
the  thrashing  of  women!  He  has  no  nobility  of  soul! 
He  has  no  heart!"  Nor  have  I,  my  eminent  young 
Grubstreet !  any  more  than  you  have  ears.  Dear  ladies ! 
I  assure  you  I  am  only  joking  in  the  above  remarks,— I 
do  not  advocate  the  thrashing  of  your  sex  at  all,  —  and, 
as  you  can't  understand  the  commonest  bit  of  fun,  beg 
leave  flatly  to  tell  you,  that  I  consider  your  sex  a 
hundred  times  more  loving  and  faithful  than  ours. 

So,  what  is  the  use  of  Hetty's  parents  taking  her 
home,  if  the  little  maid  intends  to  be  just  as  fond  of 
Harry  absent  as  of  Harry  present?  Why  not  let  her 
see  him  before  Ball  and  Dobbin  are  put  to,  and  say 
"  Good-by,  Harry !  I  was  very  wilful  and  fractious  last 
night,  and  you  were  very  kind:  but  good-by,  Harry!  " 
She  will  show  no  special  emotion:  she  is  so  ashamed  of 
her  secret,  that  she  will  not  betray  it.  Harry  is  too  much 
preoccupied  to  discover  it  for  himself.  He  does  not 
know  what  grief  is  lying  behind  Hetty's  glances,  or 
hidden  under  the  artifice  of  her  innocent  young  smiles. 
He  has,  perhaps,  a  care  of  his  own.  He  will  part  from 
her  calmly,  and  fancy  she  is  happy  to  get  back  to  her 
music  and  her  poultry  and  her  flower-garden. 

He  did  not  even  ride  part  of  the  way  homewards  by 
the  side  of  his  friends'  carriage.  He  had  some  other 
party  arranged  for  that  afternoon,  and  when  he  re- 


45G  THE  VIRGINIANS   . 

turned  thence,  the  good  Lamberts  were  gone  from  Tun- 
bridge  Wells.  There  were  their  windows  open,  and  the 
card  in  one  of  them  signifying  that  the  apartments  were 
once  more  to  let.  A  little  passing  sorrow  at  the  blank 
aspect  of  the  rooms  lately  enlivened  by  countenances  so 
frank  and  friendly,  may  have  crossed  the  young  gentle- 
man's mind ;  but  he  dines  at  the  "  White  Horse  "  at 
four  o'clock,  and  eats  his  dinner  and  calls  fiercely  for 
his  bottle.  Pooi  little  Hester  will  choke  over  her  tea 
about  the  same  hour,  when  the  Lamberts  arrive  to  sleep 
at  the  house  of  their  friends  at  Westerham.  The  young 
roses  will  be  wan  in  her  cheeks  in  the  morning,  and  there 
will  be  black  circles  round  her  eyes.  It  was  the  thunder : 
the  night  was  hot :  she  could  not  sleep :  she  will  be  better 
when  she  gets  home  again  the  next  day.  And  home  they 
come.  There  is  the  gate  where  he  fell.  There  is  the 
bed  he  lay  in,  the  chair  in  which  he  used  to  sit — what 
ages  seem  to  have  passed !  What  a  gulf  between  to-day 
and  yesterday!  Who  is  that  little  child  calling  her 
chickens,  or  watering  her  roses  yonder?  Are  she  and 
that  girl  the  same  Hester  Lambert?  Why,  she  is  ever 
so  much  older  than  Theo  now — Theo,  who  has  always 
been  so  composed,  and  so  clever,  and  so  old  for  her  age. 
But  in  a  night  or  two  Hester  has  lived — oh,  long,  long 
years!  So  have  many  besides:  and  poppy  and  man- 
dragora  will  never  medicine  them  to  the  sweet  sleep  they 
tasted  5'esterday. 

Maria  Esmond  saw  the  Lambert  cavalcade  drive 
away,  and  felt  a  grim  relief.  She  looks  with  hot  eyes 
at  Harry  when  he  comes  in  to  his  aunt's  card-tables, 
flushed  with  Barbeau's  good  wine.  He  laughs,  rattles 
in  reply  to  his  aunt,  who  asks  him  which  of  the  girls  is 
his  sweetheart?    He  gaily  says  he  loves  them  both  like 


THE  VIRGINIANS  457 

sisters.  He  has  never  seen  a  better  gentleman,  nor 
jijetter  people,  than  the  Lamberts.  Why  is  Lambert  not 
a  general?  He  has  been  a  most  distinguished  officer: 
his  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  is  very  fond  of  him. 
Madame  Bernstein  says  that  Harry  must  make  interest 
with  Lady  Yarmouth  for  his  protege. 

"  Elle  ravvole  fous,  cher  bedid  anche!  "  says  Madame 
Bernstein,  mimicking  the  Countess's  German  accent. 
The  Baroness  is  delighted  with  her  boy's  success.  "  You 
carry  off  the  hearts  of  all  the  old  women,  doesn't  he, 
Maria?  "  she  says,  with  a  sneer  at  her  niece,  who  quivers 
under  the  stab. 

"  You  were  quite  right,  my  dear,  not  to  perceive  that 
she  cheated  at  cards,  and  you  play  like  a  grand  sei- 
gneur," continues  Madame  de  Bernstein. 

"Did  she  cheat?"  cries  Harry,  astonished.  "I  am 
sure,  Ma'am,  I  saw  no  unfair  play." 

"  No  more  did  I,  my  dear,  but  I  am  sure  she  cheated. 
Bah!  every  woman  cheats,  I  and  INIaria  included,  when 
we  can  get  a  chance.  But  when  you  play  with  the  Wal- 
moden,  you  don't  do  wrong  to  lose  in  moderation:  and 
many  men  cheat  in  that  way.  Cultivate  her.  She  has 
taken  a  fancy  to  your  beaux  yeux.  Why  should  your 
Excellency  not  be  Governor  of  Virginia,  sir?  You  must 
go  and  pay  your  respects  to  the  Duke  and  his  Majesty  at 
Kensington.  The  Countess  of  Yarmouth  will  be  your 
best  friend  at  Court." 

"  Why  should  you  not  introduce  me,  aunt?  "  asked 
Harry. 

The  old  lady's  rouged  cheek  grew  a  little  redder.  "  T 
am  not  in  favour  at  Kensington,"  she  said.  "  I  may 
have  been  once;  and  there  are  no  faces  so  vmwelcome  to 
kings  as  those  they  wish  to  forget.     All  of  us  want  to 


458  THE  VIRGINIANS 

forget  something  or  somebody.  I  dare  say  our  ingenu 
here  would  like  to  wipe  a  smn  or  two  off  the  slate. 
Wouldst  thou  not,  Harry?  " 

Harry  turned  red,  too,  and  so  did  Maria,  and  his  aunt 
laughed  one  of  those  wicked  laughs  which  are  not  alto- 
gether pleasant  to  hear.  What  meant  those  guilty  sig- 
nals on  the  cheeks  of  her  nephew  and  niece?  What  ac- 
count was  scored  upon  the  memory  of  either,  which  they 
were  desirous  to  efface?  I  fear  Madame  Bernstein  was 
right,  and  that  most  folks  have  some  ugly  reckonings 
written  upon  their  consciences,  which  we  were  glad  to 
be  quit  of. 

Had  Maria  known  one  of  the  causes  of  Harry's  dis- 
quiet, that  middle-aged  spinster  would  have  been  more 
unquiet  still.  For  some  days  he  had  missed  a  pocket- 
book.  He  had  remembered  it  in  his  possession  on  that 
day  when  he  drank  so  much  claret  at  the  "  White 
Horse,"  and  Gumbo  carried  him  to  bed.  He  sought  for 
it  in  the  morning,  but  none  of  his  servants  had  seen  it. 
He  had  inquired  for  it  at  the  "  White  Horse,"  but  there 
were  no  traces  of  it.  He  could  not  cry  the  book,  and 
could  only  make  very  cautious  inquiries  respecting  it. 
He  must  not  have  it  known  that  the  book  was  lost.  A 
pretty  condition  of  mind  Lady  Maria  Esmond  would 
be  in,  if  she  knew  that  the  outpourings  of  her  heart  were 
in  the  hands  of  the  public!  The  letters  contained  all 
sorts  of  disclosures :  a  hundred  family  secrets  were  nar- 
rated by  the  artless  correspondent:  there  was  ever  so 
much  satire  and  abuse  of  persons  with  whom  she  and 
Mr.  Warrington  came  in  contact.  There  were  expostu- 
lations about  his  attentions  to  other  ladies.  There  was 
scorn,  scandal,  jokes,  appeals,  protests  of  eternal  fidel- 
ity;   the  usual  farrago,  dear  Madam,  which  you  may 


THE  VIRGINIANS  459 

remember  you  wrote  to  your  Edward,  when  you  were 
engaged  to  him,  and  before  you  became  Mrs.  Jones. 
"^Vould  you  like  those  letters  to  be  read  by  any  one  else? 
Do  you  recollect  what  you  said  about  the  Miss  Browns 
in  two  or  three  of  those  letters,  and  the  unfavourable, 
opinion  you  expressed  of  ]\Irs.  Thompson's  character? 
Do  you  happen  to  recall  the  words  which  you  used  re- 
garding Jones  himself,  whom  you  subsequently  mar- 
ried (for  in  consequence  of  disputes  about  the  settle- 
ments your  engagement  with  Edward  was  broken  off)  ? 
and  would  j^ou  like  JNIr.  J.  to  see  those  remarks?  You 
know  you  wouldn't.  Then  be  pleased  to  withdraw  that 
imputation  which  you  have  already  cast  in  your  mind 
upon  Lady  Maria  Esmond,  No  doubt  her  letters  were 
very  foolish,  as  most  love-letters  are,  but  it  does  not  fol- 
low that  there  was  anything  wrong  in  them.  They  are 
foolish  when  written  by  young  folks  to  one  another,  and 
how  much  more  foolish  when  written  by  an  old  man  to 
a  young  lass,  or  by  an  old  lass  to  a  young  lad!  No 
wonder  Lady  Maria  should  not  like  her  letters  to  be 
read.  Why,  the  very  spelling— but  that  didn't  mat- 
ter so  much  in  her  ladyship's  days,  and  people  are 
just  as  foolish  now,  though  they  spell  better.  No,  it  is 
not  the  spelling  which  matters  so  much ;  it  is  the  writing 
at  all.  I  for  one,  and  for  the  future,  am  determined 
never  to  speak  or  write  my  mind  out  regarding  anything 
or  anybody.  I  intend  to  say  of  every  woman  that  she 
is  chaste  and  handsome;  of  every  man  that  he  is  hand- 
some, clever,  and  rich;  of  every  book  that  it  is  delight- 
fully interesting;  of  Snobmore's  manners  that  they  are 
gentlemanlike;  of  Screwby's  dinners  that  tliey  are 
luxurious;  of  Jawkins's  conversation  tliat  it  is  lively 
and  amusing;   of  Xantippe,  that  she  has  a  sweet  tem- 


4C0  THE  VIRGINIANS 

per!  of  Jezebel,  that  her  colour  is  natural;  of  Blue- 
beard, that  he  really  was  most  indulgent  to  his  wives  and 
that  very  likely  they  died  of  bronchitis.  What  ?  a  word 
against  the  spotless  Messalina?  What  an  unfavourable 
view  of  human  nature!  What?  King  Cheops  was  not 
a  perfect  monarch?  O  you  railer  at  royalty  and  slan- 
derer of  all  that  is  noble  and  good!  When  this  book 
is  concluded,  I  shall  change  the  jaundiced  livery  which 
my  books  have  worn  since  I  began  to  lisp  in  numbers, 
have  rose-coloured  coats  for  them  with  cherubs  on  the 
cover,  and  all  the  characters  within  shall  be  perfect 
angels. 

Meanwhile  we  are  in  a  society  of  men  and  women, 
from  whose  shoulders  no  sort  of  wings  have  sprouted 
as  yet,  and  who,  without  any  manner  of  doubt,  have  their 
little  failings.  There  is  Madame  Bernstein:  she  has 
fallen  asleep  after  dinner,  and  eating  and  drinking  too 
much, — those  are  her  ladyship's  little  failings.  Mr. 
Harry  Warrington  has  gone  to  play  a  match  at  billiards 
with  Count  Caramboli :  I  suspect  idleness  is  his  failing. 
That  is  what  Mr.  Chaplain  Sampson  remarks  to  Lady 
Maria,  as  they  are  talking  together  in  a  low  tone,  so  as 
not  to  interrupt  Aunt  Bernstein's  doze  in  the  neigh- 
bouring room. 

"  A  gentleman  of  Mr.  Warrington's  means  can  af- 
ford to  be  idle,"  says  Lady  Maria.  "  Why,  sure  you 
love  cards  and  billiards  yourself,  my  good  Mr.  Samp- 
son? " 

"  I  don't  say,  Madam,  my  practice  is  good,  only  my 
doctrine  is  sound,"  says  JNIr.  Chaplain  with  a  sigh.  "  This 
young  gentleman  should  have  some  employment.  He 
should  appear  at  Court,  and  enter  the  service  of  his 
country,  as  befits  a  man  of  his  station.    He  should  settle 


THE  VIRGINIANS  461 

down,  and  choose  a  woman  of  a  suitable  rank  as  his 
wife."  Sampson  looks  in  her  ladyship's  face  as  he 
"Speaks. 

"  Indeed,  my  cousin  is  wasting  his  time,"  says  Lady 
Maria,  blushing  slightly. 

"  Mr.  Warrington  might  see  his  relatives  of  his 
father's  family,"  suggests  Mr.  Chaplain. 

"  Suffolk  country  boobies  drinking  beer  and  hallooing 
after  foxes!  I  don't  see  anything  to  be  gained  by  his 
frequenting  them,  Mr.  Sampson!  " 

"  They  are  of  an  ancient  family,  of  which  the  chief 
has  been  knight  of  the  shire  these  hundred  years,"  says 
the  Chaplain.  "  I  have  heard  Sir  Miles  hath  a  daughter 
of  Mr.  Harry's  age — and  a  beauty,  too." 

"  I  know  nothing,  sir,  about  Sir  Miles  Warrington, 
and  his  daughters,  and  his  beauties!  "  cries  Maria,  in  a 
fluster. 

"  The  Baroness  stirred — no — her  ladyship  is  in  a 
sweet  sleep,"  says  the  Chaplain,  in  a  very  soft  voice.  "  I 
fear,  INIadam,  for  your  ladyship's  cousin,  Mr.  Warring- 
ton. I  fear  for  his  youth;  for  designing  persons  who 
may  get  about  him ;  for  extravagances,  follies,  intrigues 
even  into  which  he  will  be  led,  and  into  which  everybody 
will  try  to  tempt  him.  His  lordship,  my  kind  patron, 
bade  me  to  come  and  watch  over  him,  and  I  am  here  ac- 
cordingly, as  your  ladyship  knoweth.  I  know  the  follies 
of  young  men.  Perhaps  I  have  practised  them  myself. 
I  own  it  with  a  blush,"  adds  Mr.  Sampson  with  much 
unction— not,  however,  bringing  the  promised  blush 
forward  to  corroborate  the  asserted  re])entance. 

"  Between  ourselves,  I  fear  Mr.  Warrington  is  in 
some  trouble  now,  Madam,"  continues  the  Chaplain, 
steadily  looking  at  Lady  Maria. 


462  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"What,  again?"  shrieks  the  lady. 

"  Hush!  Your  ladyship's  dear  invalid!  "  whispers  the 
Chaplain,  again  j^ointing  towards  Madame  Bernstein. 
"  Do  you  think  your  cousin  has  any  partiality  for  any — 
any  member  of  Mr.  Lambert's  family?  for  example, 
Miss  Lambert?  " 

"  There  is  nothing  between  him  and  Miss  Lambert," 
says  Lady  Maria. 

"  Your  ladyship  is  certain?  " 

"  Women  are  said  to  have  good  eyes  in  such  matters, 
my  good  Sampson,"  says  my  lady,  with  an  easy  air. 
"  I  thought  the  little  girl  seemed  to  be  following 
him." 

"  Then  I  am  at  fault  once  more,"  the  frank  Chaplain 
said.  "  Mr.  Warrington  said  of  the  young  lady,  that 
she  ought  to  go  back  to  her  doll,  and  called  her  a  pert, 
stuck-up  little  hussy." 

"Ah!"  sighed  Lady  Maria,  as  if  relieved  by  the 
news. 

"  Then,  Madam,  there  must  be  somebody  else,"  said 
the  Chaplain.  "  Has  he  confided  nothing  to  your  lady- 
ship?" 

"To  me,  Mr.  Sampson?  What?  Where?  How?" 
exclaims  Maria. 

"  Some  six  days  ago,  after  we  had  been  dining  at  the 
'  White  Horse,'  and  drinking  too  freely,  Mr.  Warring- 
ton lost  a  pocket-book  containing  letters." 

"  Letters?  "  gasps  Lady  Maria. 

"  And  probably  more  money  than  he  likes  to  own," 
continues  Mr.  Sampson,  with  a  grave  nod  of  the  head. 
"  He  is  very  much  disturbed  about  the  book.  We  have 
both  made  cautious  inquiries  about  it.  We  have — 
Gracious  powers,  is  your  ladyship  ill? " 


THE  VIRGINIANS  463 

Here  my  Lady  JNIaria  gave  three  remarkably  shrill 
screams,  and  tumbled  off  her  chair. 
c^  "I  will  see  the  Prince.  I  have  a  right  to  see  him. 
What's  this?— Where  am  I?— What's  the  matter?" 
cries  INIadame  Bernstein,  waking  up  from  her  sleep. 
She  had  been  dreaming  of  old  days,  no  doubt.  The 
old  lady  shook  in  all  her  limbs — her  face  was  very  much 
flushed.  She  stared  about  wildly  a  moment,  and  then 
tottered  forward  on  her  tortoiseshell  cane.  "  What — 
what's  the  matter?  "  she  asked  again.  "  Have  you  killed 
her,  sir?  " 

"  Some  sudden  qualm  must  have  come  over  her  lady- 
ship. Shall  I  cut  her  laces,  Madam?  or  send  for  a  doc- 
tor? "  cries  the  Chaplain,  with  every  look  of  innocence 
and  alarm. 

"  What  has  passed  between  you,  sir?  "  asked  the  old 
lady,  fiercely. 

*'  I  give  you  my  honour,  Madam,  I  have  done  I  don't 
know  what.  I  but  mentioned  that  Mr.  Warrington  had 
lost  a  pocket-book  containing  letters,  and  my  lady 
swooned,  as  you  see." 

^Madame  Bernstein  dashed  water  on  her  niece's  face. 
A  feeble  moan  told  presently  that  the  lady  was  coming 
to  herself. 

The  Baroness  looked  sternly  after  Mr.  Sampson,  as 
she  sent  him  away  on  his  errand  for  the  doctor.  Her 
aunt's  grim  countenance  was  of  little  comfort  to 
poor  Maria  when  she  saw  it  on  waking  \\])  from  her 
swoon. 

"  What  has  liappened?  "  asked  the  younger  lady,  be- 
wildered and  gas])ing. 

"  Il'm !  You  know  ])cst  wlint  lias  lia])])cned,  INIadam, 
I  suppose.     What  hath  happened  before  in  our  fam- 


464  THE  VIRGINIANS 

ily?  "  cried  the  old  Baroness,  glaring  at  her  niece  with 
savage  eyes. 

"  Ah,  yes!  the  letters  have  been  lost— ach  lieber  Him- 
mel!"  And  Maria,  as  she  would  sometimes  do,  when 
much  moved,  began  to  speak  in  the  language  of  her 
mother. 

"  Yes!  the  seal  has  been  broken,  and  the  letters  have 
been  lost.  'Tis  the  old  story  of  the  Esmonds,"  cried  the 
elder,  bitterly. 

"  Seal  broken,  letters  lost?  What  do  you  mean, 
aunt?  "  asked  Maria,  faintly. 

"  I  mean  that  mj^  mother  was  the  only  honest  woman 
that  ever  entered  the  family!"  cried  the  Baroness, 
stamping  her  foot.  "  And  she  was  a  parson's  daughter 
of  no  family  in  particular,  or  she  would  have  gone 
w^rong,  too.  Good  heavens !  is  it  decreed  that  we  are  all 
to  be  .  .  ." 

"  To  be  what,  Madam?  "  cried  Maria. 

"  To  be  what  my  Lady  Queensberry  said  we  were  last 
night.  To  be  what  we  are!  You  know  the  word  for 
it!  "  cried  the  indignant  old  woman.  "  I  say  what  has 
come  to  the  whole  race?  Your  father's  mother  was  an 
honest  woman,  Maria.  Why  did  I  leave  her?  Why 
couldn't  you  remain  so?  " 

"Madam!"  exclaims  Maria.  "I  declare,  before 
heaven,   I  am  as — " 

"  Bah!  Don't  madam  me!  Don't  call  heaven  to  wit- 
ness—there's nobody  by!  And  if  you  swore  to  your 
innocence  till  the  rest  of  youv  teeth  dropped  out  of  your 
mouth,  my  Lady  Maria  Esmond,  I  would  not  believe 
you! 

"Ah!  it  was  you  told  him!"  gasped  Maria.  She 
recognized  an  arrow  out  of  her  aunt's  quiver. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  465 

"  I  saw  some  folly  going  on  between  you  and  the  boy, 
and  I  told  him  that  you  were  as  old  as  his  mother.  Yes, 
'•I  did!  Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  let  Henry  Es- 
mond's boy  fling  himself  and  his  wealth  away  upon  such 
a  battered  old  rock  as  you?  The  boy  shan't  be  robbed 
and  cheated  in  our  family.  Not  a  shilling  of  mine  shall 
any  of  you  have  if  he  comes  to  any  harm  amongst  you." 

"Ah!  you  told  him!"  cried  Maria,  with  a  sudden 
burst  of  rebellion.  "  Well,  then!  I'd  have  you  to  know 
that  I  don't  care  a  penny,  Madam,  for  your  paltry 
money!  I  have  Mr.  Harry  Warrington's  word— yes, and 
his  letters— and  I  know  he  will  die  rather  than  break  it." 

"  He  will  die  if  he  keeps  it!  "  (Maria  shrugged  her 
shoulders.)  "But  you  don't  care  for  that — you've  no 
more  heart — " 

"Than  mv  father's  sister,  Madam!"  cries  Maria 
again.  The  younger  woman,  ordinarily  submissive,  had 
turned  upon  her  persecutor. 

"  Ah!  Why  did  not  I  marry  an  honest  man? "  said 
the  old  lady,  shaking  her  head  sadly.  "  Henry  Es- 
mond was  noble  and  good,  and  perhaps  might  liave  made 
me  so.  But  no,  no— we  have  all  got  the  taint  in  us— all! 
You  don't  mean  to  sacrifice  this  boy,  Maria?  " 

"  Madame  ma  tante,  do  you  take  me  for  a  fool  at 
my  age?  "  asks  Maria. 

"  Set  him  free!  I'll  give  you  five  thousand  pounds — 
in  my — in  my  will,  Maria.     I  will,  on  my  honour!  " 

"  When  you  were  young,  and  you  liked  Colonel  Es- 
mond, you  threw  him  aside  for  an  earl,  and  the  earl 
for  a  duke? " 

"  Yes." 

"Eh!  Bon  sang  ne  pent  mentii-!  1  have  no  money, 
I  have  no  friends.     My  father  was  a  sjjcndthrif't,  my 


4G6  THE  VIRGINIANS 

brother  is  a  beggar.  I  have  ^Ir.  Warrington's  word, 
and  I  know,  ]Madam,  he  will  keep  it.  And  that's  what 
I  tell  your  ladyship ! "  cries  Lady  Maria  with  a  wave 
of  her  hand.  "  Suppose  my  letters  are  published  to 
all  the  world  to-morrow?  Apres?  I  know  they  con- 
tain things  I  would  as  lieve  not  tell.  Things  not  about 
me  alone.  Comment!  Do  you  suppose  there  are  no 
stories  but  mine  in  the  family?  It  is  not  my  letters  that 
I  am  afraid  of,  so  long  as  I  have  his.  Madam.  Yes,  his 
and  his  word,  and  I  trust  them  both." 

"  I  will  send  to  my  merchant,  and  give  you  the  money 
now,  Maria,"  pleaded  the  old  lady. 

"  No,  I  shall  have  my  pretty  Harry,  and  ten  times 
five  thousand  pounds!"  cries  Maria. 

"  Not  till  his  mother's  death.  Madam,  who  is  just 
your  age ! " 

"  We  can  afford  to  wait,  aunt.  At  my  age,  as  you 
say,  I  am  not  so  eager  as  young  chits  for  a  husband." 

"  But  to  wait  my  sister's  death,  at  least,  is  a  draw- 
back?" 

"  Offer  me  ten  thousand  pounds,  Madame  Tusher, 
and  then  we  will  see!  "  cries  Maria. 

"  I  have  not  so  much  money  in  the  world,  Maria," 
said  the  old  lady. 

"  Then,  Madam,  let  me  make  what  I  can  for  myself!  " 
says  Maria. 

"  Ah,  if  he  heard  you!  " 

"  Apres?  I  have  his  word.  I  know  he  will  keep  it. 
I  can  afford  to  wait,  Madam,"  and  she  flung  out  of  the 
room,  just  as  the  Chaplain  returned.  It  was  Madame 
Bernstein  who  wanted  cordials  now.  She  was  im- 
mensely moved  and  shocked  by  the  news  which  had  been 
thus  suddenly  brought  to  her. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 


WHICH    SEEMS   TO   MEAN    MISCHIEF 


HOUGH     she 

had  clearly 
had  the  worst 
of  the  battle 
described  in 
the  last  chap- 
ter, the  Bar- 
oness Bern- 
stein, when  she 
next  met  her 
niece,  showed 
no  rancour  or 
anger.  "  Of 
course,  my  La- 
dy Maria,"  she 
said,  "  you  can't  suppose  that  I,  as  Harry  Warring- 
ton's near  relative,  can  be  pleased  at  the  idea  of  his  mar- 
rying a  woman  who  is  as  old  as  his  mother,  and  has  not 
a  penny  to  her  fortune ;  but  if  he  chooses  to  do  so  silly 
a  thing,  the  affair  is  none  of  mine;  and  1  doubt  whether 
I  should  have  been  much  inclined  to  be  taken  au  serieux 
with  regard  to  that  offer  of  five  thousand  pounds  which 
I  made  in  tlie  heat  of  our  talk.  So  it  was  already  at 
Castlewood  that  this  pretty  affair  was  arranged?  Had 
I  known  how  far  it  had  gone,  my  dear,  I  should  have 

467 


468  THE  VIRGINIANS 

spared  some  needless  opposition.  When  a  pitcher  is 
broken,  \^'hat  raihng  can  mend  it?  " 

"  JNIadam!  "  here  interposed  Maria. 

"  Pardon  me— I  mean  nothing  against  your  lady- 
ship's honour  or  character,  which,  no  doubt,  are  quite 
safe.  Harry  says  so,  and  you  say  so— what  more  can 
one  ask? " 

"  You  have  talked  to  ]Mr.  Warrington,  Madam? " 

"  And  he  has  owned  that  he  made  you  a  promise  at 
Castlewood:    that  you  have  it  in  his  writing." 

"  Certainly  I  have.  Madam!"  says  Lady  Maria. 

"  Ah !  "  ( The  elder  lady  did  not  wince  at  this. )  "  And 
I  own,  too,  that  at  first  I  put  a  wrong  construction  upon 
the  tenor  of  your  letters  to  him.  They  implicate  other 
members  of  the  f  amity — " 

"  Who  have  spoken  most  wickedly  of  me,  and  en- 
deavoured to  prejudice  me  in  every  way  in  my  dear  Mr. 
Warrington's  eyes.  Yes,  Madam,  I  own  I  have  written 
against  them,  to  justify  myself." 

"  But,  of  course,  are  pained  to  think  that  any  wretch 
should  get  possession  of  stories  to  the  disadvantage  of 
our  family,  and  make  them  public  scandal.  Hence  your 
disquiet  just  now." 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  Lady  Maria.  "  From  Mr.  War- 
rington I  could  have  nothing  concealed  henceforth,  and 
spoke  freely  to  him.  But  that  is  a  very  different  thing 
from  wishing  all  the  world  to  know  the  disputes  of  a 
noble  family." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Maria,  I  admire  you,  and  have  done 
you  injustice  these — these  twenty  years,  let  us  say." 

"  I  am  very  glad,  Madam,  that  you  end  by  doing  me 
justice  at  all,"  said  the  niece. 

"  When  I  saw  you  last  night,  opening  the  ball  with 


THE  VIRGINIANS  469 

my  nephew,  can  you  guess  what  I  thought  of,  my 
dear?  " 

"  I  really  have  no  idea  what  the  Baroness  de  Bernstein 
thought  of,"  said  Lady  Maria,  haughtily. 

"  I  remembered  that  you  had  performed  to  that  very 
tune  with  the  dancing-master  at  Kensington,  my  dear!  " 

"  JNIadam,  it  was  an  infamous  calumny." 

"  By  which  the  poor  dancing-master  got  a  cudgelling 
for  nothing!  " 

"It  is  cruel  and  unkind.  Madam,  to  recall  that  cal- 
umny—  and  I  shall  beg  to  decline  living  any  longer  with 
anj"  one  who  utters  it,"  continued  Maria,  with  great 
spirit. 

"  You  wish  to  go  home?  I  can  fancy  you  won't  like 
Tunbridge.  It  will  be  very  hot  for  you  if  those  letters 
are  found." 

"  There  was  not  a  word  against  you  in  them,  Madam: 
about  that  I  can  make  your  mind  easy." 

"  So  Harry  said,  and  did  your  ladyship  justice.  Well, 
my  dear,  we  are  tired  of  one  another,  and  shall  be  better 
apart  for  a  while." 

"  That  is  precisely  my  own  opinion,"  said  Lady  Ma- 
ria, dropping  a  curtsey. 

"  Mr.  Sampson  can  escort  you  to  Castlewood.  You 
and  your  maid  can  take  a  post-chaise." 

"  We  can  take  a  post-chaise,  and  JNIr.  Sampson  can 
escort  me,"  echoed  the  younger  lady.  "  You  see,  Ma- 
dam, I  act  like  a  dutiful  niece." 

"  Do  you  know,  my  dear,  I  have  a  notion  tljat 
Sampson  has  got  the  letters? "  said  the  Baroness, 
frankly. 

"  I  confess  that  such  a  notion  has  passed  througli  my 
own  mind." 


470  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  And  you  want  to  go  home  in  the  chaise,  and  coax 
the  letters  from  him?  DeHlah!  Well,  they  can  be  no 
good  to  me,  and  I  trust  you  may  get  them.  When  will 
you  go?  The  sooner  the  better,  you  say?  We  are 
women  of  the  world,  JNIaria.  We  only  call  names  when 
we  are  in  a  passion.  We  don't  want  each  other's  com- 
pany; and  we  part  on  good  terms.  Shall  we  go  to  my 
Lady  Yarmouth's?  'Tis  her  night.  There  is  nothing 
like  a  change  of  scene  after  one  of  those  little  nervous 
attacks  you  have  had,  and  cards  drive  away  unpleasant 
thoughts  better  than  any  doctor." 

Lady  Maria  agreed  to  go  to  Lady  Yarmouth's  cards, 
and  was  dressed  and  ready  first,  awaiting  her  aunt  in 
the  drawing-room.  Madame  Bernstein,  as  she  came 
down,  remarked  Maria's  door  was  left  open.  "  She  has 
the  letters  upon  her,"  thought  the  old  lady.  And  the 
pair  went  off  to  their  entertainment  in  their  respective 
chairs,  and  exhibited  towards  each  other  that  charming 
cordiality  and  respect  which  women  can  show  after,  and 
even  during,  the  bitterest  quarrels. 

That  night,  on  their  return  from  the  Countess's  drum, 
Mrs.  Brett,  Madame  Bernstein's  maid,  presented  her- 
self to  my  Lady  Maria's  call,  when  that  lady  rang  her 
hand-bell  upon  retiring  to  her  room.  Betty,  Mrs. 
Brett  was  ashamed  to  say,  was  not  in  a  fit  state  to  come 
before  my  lady.  Betty  had  been  a- junketing  and  mer- 
rj^-making  with  Mr.  Warrington's  black  gentleman, 
with  my  Lord  Bamborough's  valet,  and  several  more 
ladies  and  gentlemen  of  that  station,  and  the  liquor—- 
]Mrs.  Brett  was  shocked  to  own  it — had  proved  too 
much  for  INIrs.  Betty.  Should  ]Mrs.  Brett  undress  my 
lady?  ]My  lady  said  she  would  undress  without  a  maid, 
and  gave  Mrs.  Brett  leave  to  withdraw.     "  She  has  the 


THE  VIRGINIANS  471 

letters  in  her  stays,"  thought  JNIadame  Bernstein.  They 
had  bidden  each  other  an  amicable  good-night  on  the 
stairs. 

Mrs.  Betty  had  a  scolding  the  next  morning,  when 
she  came  to  wait  on  her  mistress,  from  the  closet  adjoin- 
ing Lady  INIaria's  apartment  in  which  Betty  lay.  She 
owned,  with  contrition,  her  partiality  for  rum-punch, 
which  Mr.  Gumbo  had  the  knack  of  brewing  most  deli- 
cate. She  took  her  scolding  with  meekness,  and,  having 
performed  her  usual  duties  about  her  lady's  person, 
retired. 

Now  Betty  was  one  of  the  Castlewood  girls  who  had 
been  so  fascinated  by  Gumbo,  and  was  a  very  good-look- 
ing blue-eyed  lass,  upon  whom  jNIr.  Case,  Madame  Bern- 
stein's confidential  man,  had  also  cast  the  eyes  of  affec- 
tion. Hence,  between  JNIessrs.  Gumbo  and  Case,  there 
had  been  jealousies  and  even  quarrels;  which  had  caused 
Gumbo,  who  was  of  a  peaceful  disposition,  to  be  rather 
shy  of  the  Baroness's  gentlemen,  the  chief  of  whom 
vowed  he  would  break  the  bones,  or  have  the  life  of 
Gumbo,  if  he  persisted  in  his  attentions  to  INIrs.  Betty. 

But  on  the  night  of  the  rum-punch,  though  Mr.  Case 
found  Gumbo  and  Mrs.  Betty  whispering  in  the  door- 
way, in  the  cool  breeze,  and  Gumbo  would  have  turned 
pale  with  fear  had  he  been  able  so  to  do,  no  one  could 
be  more  gracious  than  Mr.  Case.  It  was  lie  wlio  pro- 
posed the  bowl  of  punch,  which  was  brewed  and  drunk 
in  ]Mrs.  Betty's  room,  and  which  (iumbo  concocted  with 
exquisite  skill.  He  conijjlinicnted  Gumbo  on  his  music. 
Though  a  sober  man  ordinarily,  he  insisted  upon  more 
and  more  drinking,  until  j)()()r  INI  is.  Hetty  was  reduced 
to  the  state  which  occasioned  her  lady's  just  censure. 

As  for  ]\Ir.  Case  himself,  who  lay  out  of  tlie  house, 


472  THE  VIRGINIANS 

he  was  so  ill  with  the  punch,  that  he  kept  his  bed  the 
whole  of  the  next  day,  and  did  not  get  strength  to  make 
his  appearance,  and  wait  on  his  ladies,  until  supper- 
time;  when  his  mistress  good-naturedly  rebuked  him, 
saying  that  it  was  not  often  he  sinned  in  that  way. 

"  Why,  Case,  I  could  have  made  oath  it  was  you  I 
saw  on  horseback  this  morning  galloping  on  the  London 
road,"  said  Mr.  Warrington,  who  was  supping  with  his 
relatives. 

"  Me!  law  bless  you,  sir!  I  was  a-bed,  and  I  thought 
my  head  would  come  off  with  the  aching.  I  ate  a  bit  at 
six  o'clock,  and  drunk  a  deal  of  small  beer,  and  I  am 
almost  my  own  man  again  now.  But  that  Gumbo,  sav- 
ing j^our  honour's  presence,  I  won't  taste  none  of  his 
punch  again."  And  the  honest  major-domo  went  on 
with  his  duties  among  the  bottles  and  glasses. 

As  they  sat  after  their  meal,  Madame  Bernstein  was 
friendly  enough.  She  prescribed  strong  fortifying 
drinks  for  Maria,  against  the  recurrence  of  her  fainting 
fits.  The  lady  had  such  attacks  not  unf requently.  She 
urged  her  to  consult  her  London  physician,  and  to  send 
up  an  account  of  her  case  by  Harry.  By  Harry  ?  asked 
the  lady.  Yes.  Harry  was  going  for  two  days  on  an 
errand  for  his  aunt  to  London.  "  I  do  not  care  to  tell 
you,  my  dear,  that  it  is  on  business  which  will  do  him 
good.  I  wish  Mr.  Draper  to  put  him  into  my  will,  and  as 
I  am  going  travelling  upon  a  round  of  visits  when  you 
and  I  part,  I  think,  for  security,  I  shall  ask  Mr.  War- 
rington to  take  my  trinket-box  in  his  post-chaise  to 
London  with  him,  for  there  have  been  robberies  of  late, 
and  I  have  no  fancy  for  being  stopped  by  highway- 
men." 

Maria  looked  blank  at  the  notion  of  the  young  gentle- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  473 

man's  departure,  but  hoped  that  she  might  have  his 
escort  back  to  Castlewood,  whither  her  elder  brother 
■had  now  returned.  "  Nay,"  says  his  aunt,  "  the  lad  hath 
been  tied  to  our  apron-strings  long  enough.  A  day  in 
London  will  do  him  no  harm.  He  can  perform  my 
errand  for  me  and  be  back  with  you  by  Saturday." 

"  I  would  oif  er  to  accompany  Mr.  Warrington,  but  I 
preach  on  Friday  before  her  ladyship,"  says  Mr.  Samp- 
son. He  was  anxious  that  my  Lady  Yarmouth  should 
judge  of  his  powers  as  a  preacher;  and  Madame  Bern- 
stein had  exerted  her  influence  with  the  king's  favourite 
to  induce  her  to  hear  the  chaplain. 

Harry  relished  the  notion  of  a  rattling  journey  to 
London  and  a  day  or  two  of  sport  there.  He  promised 
that  his  pistols  were  good,  and  that  he  would  hand  the 
diamonds  over  in  safety  to  the  banker's  strong-room. 
Would  he  occupy  his  aunt's  London  house?  No,  that 
would  be  a  dreary  lodging  with  only  a  housemaid  and  a 
groom  in  charge  of  it.  He  would  go  to  the  "  Star  and 
Garter  "  in  Pall  Mall,  or  to  an  inn  in  Covent  Garden. 
"Ah!  I  have  often  talked  over  that  journey,"  said 
Harry,  his  countenance  saddening. 

"  And  with  whom,  sir?  "  asked  Lady  Maria. 

"  With  one  who  promised  to  make  it  with  me,"  said  the 
young  man,  thinking,  as  he  always  did,  with  an  extreme 
tenderness  of  the  lost  brother. 

"  He  has  more  heart,  my  good  Maria,  than  some  of 
us!"  says  Harry's  aunt,  witnessing  liis  emotion.  Un- 
controllable gusts  of  grief  would,  not  unfrequently,  still 
pass  over  our  young  man.  The  parting  from  his  brother; 
the  scenes  and  circumstances  of  George's  fall  last  year ; 
the  recollection  of  his  words,  or  of  some  excursion  at 
home  which  they  had  planned  together;   would  recur  to 


474  THE  VIRGINIANS 

him  and  overcome  him.  "  I  doubt,  :Madam,"  whispered 
the  Chai^lain,  demurely,  to  :Madame  Bernstein,  after 
one  of  these  bursts  of  sorrow,  "  whether  some  folks  in 
England  would  suffer  quite  so  much  at  the  death  of  their 
elder  brother." 

But,  of  course,  this  sorrow  was  not  to  be  perpetual; 
and  we  can  fancy  Mr.  Warrington  setting  out  on  his 
London  journey  eagerly  enough,  and  very  gay  and 
happy,  if  it  must  be  owned,  to  be  rid  of  his  elderly  at- 
tachment. Yes.  There  was  no  help  for  it.  At  Castle- 
wood,  on  one  unlucky  evening,  he  had  made  an  offer  of 
his  heart  and  himself  to  his  mature  cousin,  and  she  had 
accepted  the  foolish  lad's  offer.  But  the  marriage  now 
was  out  of  the  question.  He  must  consult  his  mother. 
She  was  the  mistress  for  life  of  the  Virginian  property. 
Of  course,  she  would  refuse  her  consent  to  such  a  union. 
The  thought  of  it  was  deferred  to  a  late  period.  Mean- 
while, it  hung  like  a  weight  round  the  young  man's  neck, 
and  caused  him  no  small  remorse  and  disquiet. 

No  wonder  that  his  spirits  rose  more  gaily  as  he  came 
near  London,  and  that  he  looked  with  delight  from  his 
post-chaise  windows  upon  the  city  as  he  advanced  to- 
wards it.  No  highwayman  stopped  our  traveller  on 
Blackheath.  Yonder  are  the  gleaming  domes  of  Green- 
wich, canopied  with  woods.  There  is  the  famous 
Thames  with  its  countless  shipping;  there  actually  is 
the  Tower  of  London.  Look,  Gumbo!  "  There  is  tlie 
Tower!  "  "  Yes,  master,"  says  Gumbo,  who  has  never 
heard  of  the  Tower ;  but  Harry  has,  and  remembers  how- 
he  has  read  about  it  in  Howell's  "  INIedulla,"  and  how  he 
and  his  brother  used  to  play  at  the  Tower,  and  he  thinks 
with  delight  now,  how  he  is  actually  going  to  see  the 
armour   and   the   jewels    and   the   lions.      They  pass 


THE  VIRGINIANS  475 

through  South wark  and  over  that  famous  London 
Bridge  which  was  all  covered  with  houses  like  a  street 
two  years  ago.  Now  there  is  only  a  single  gate  left,  and 
that  is  coming  down.  Then  the  chaise  rolls  through  the 
city;  and,  "Look,  Gumbo,  that  is  Saint  Paul's!" 
"  Yes,  master;  Saint  Paul's,"  says  Gumbo,  obsequiously, 
but  little  struck  by  the  beauties  of  the  architecture. 
And  so  by  the  well-known  course  we  reach  the  Temple, 
and  Gumbo  and  his  master  look  up  with  ^we  at  the  rebel 
heads  on  Temple  Bar. 

The  chaise  drives  to  Mr.  Draper's  chambers  in  Middle 
Temple  Lane,  where  Harry  handed  the  precious  box 
over  to  ]Mr.  Draper,  and  a  letter  from  his  aunt,  which 
the  gentleman  read  with  some  interest  seemingly,  and 
carefully  put  away.  He  then  consigned  the  trinket-box 
to  his  strong  closet,  went  into  the  adjoining  room,  tak- 
ing his  clerk  with  him,  and  then  was  at  ]\Ir.  Warring- 
ton's service  to  take  him  to  an  hotel.  An  hotel  in  Covent 
Garden  was  fixed  upon  as  the  best  place  for  his  resi- 
dence. "  I  shall  have  to  keep  you  for  two  or  three  days, 
Mr.  Warrington,"  the  lawyer  said.  "  I  don't  think  the 
papers  which  the  Baroness  wants  can  be  ready  until 
then.  Meanwhile  I  am  at  your  service  to  see  the  town. 
I  live  out  of  it  myself,  and  have  a  little  box  at  Cam- 
berwell,  where  I  shall  be  proud  to  have  the  honour  of 
entertaining  Mr.  Warrington;  but  a  young  man,  I 
suppose,  will  like  his  inn  and  liis  liberty  best,  sir?  " 

Harry  said  yes,  he  thouglit  tlie  inn  would  be  ])cst; 
and  the  post-chaise,  and  a  clerk  of  Mr.  Dra])er's  inside, 
was  despatched  to  the  "  Bedford,"  wliillKr  the  two 
gentlemen  agreed  to  walk  on  foot. 

Mr.  Draper  and  Mr.  Warrington  sat  and  talked  for 
a  while.    The  Drapers,  fatlier  and  son,  had  l)een  lawyers 


476  THE  VIRGINIANS 

time  out  of  mind  to  the  Esmond  family,  and  the  attor- 
ney related  to  the  young  gentleman  numerous  stories 
regarding  his  ancestors  of  Castlewood.  Of  the  present 
Earl  ]Mr.  Draper  was  no  longer  the  agent:  his  father 
and  his  lordship  had  had  differences,  and  his  lordship's 
business  had  been  taken  elsewhere:  but  the  Baroness 
was  still  their  honoured  client,  and  very  happy  indeed 
was  Mr.  Draper  to  think  that  her  ladyship  was  so  well 
disposed  towards  her  nephew. 

As  they  were  taking  their  hats  to  go  out,  a  young 
clerk  of  the  house  stopped  his  principal  in  the  passage, 
and  said :  "  If  you  please,  sir,  them  papers  of  the  Bar- 
oness was  given  to  her  ladyship's  man,  Mr.  Case,  two 
days  ago." 

"  Just  please  to  mind  your  own  business,  Mr. 
Brown,"  said  the  lawyer  rather  sharply.  "  This  way, 
Mr.  Warrington.  Our  Temple  stairs  are  rather  dark. 
Allow  me  to  show  you  the  way." 

Harry  saw  Mr.  Draper  darting  a  Parthian  look  of 
anger  at  Mr.  Brown.  "  So  it  was  Case  I  saw  on  the 
London  Road  two  days  ago,"  he  thought.  "  What 
business  brought  the  old  fox  to  London?  "  Wherewith, 
not  choosing  to  be  inquisitive  about  other  folks'  affairs, 
he  dismissed  the  subject  from  his  mind. 

Whither  should  they  go  first?  First,  Harry  was  for 
going  to  see  the  place  where  his  grandfather  and  Lord 
Castlewood  had  fought  a  duel  fifty -six  years  ago,  in 
Leicester  Field.  Mr.  Draper  knew  the  place  well,  and 
all  about,  the  stor5^  They  might  take  Covent  Garden 
on  their  way  to  Leicester  Field,  and  see  that  Mr.  War- 
rington was  comfortably  lodged.  "  And  order  dinner," 
says  Mr.  Warrington.  No,  Mr.  Draper  could  not  con- 
sent to  that.     Mr.  Warrington  must  be  so  obliging  as 


THE  VIRGINIANS  477 

to  honour  him  on  that  day.  In  fact,  he  had  made  so 
bold  as  to  order  a  collation  from  the  "  Cock."  Mr.  War- 
rington could  not  decline  an  invitation  so  pressing,  and 
walked  away  gaily  with  his  friend,  passing  under  that 
arch  where  the  heads  were,  and  taking  off  his  hat  to 
them,  much  to  the  lawyer's  astonishment. 

"  They  were  gentlemen  who  died  for  their  king,  sir. 
]My  dear  brother  George  and  I  always  said  we  would 
salute  'em  when  we  saw  'em,"  Mr.  Warrington  said. 

"  You'll  have  a  mob  at  your  heels  if  you  do,  sir,"  said 
the  alarmed  lawyer. 

"  Confound  the  mob,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Harry,  loftily,  but 
the  passers-by,  thinking  about  their  own  affairs,  did  not 
take  any  notice  of  Mr.  Warrington's  conduct;  and  he 
walked  up  the  thronging  Strand,  gazing  with  delight 
upon  all  he  saw,  remembering,  I  dare  say,  for  all  his  life 
after,  the  sights  and  impressions  there  presented  to  him, 
but  maintaining  a  discreet  reserve ;  for  he  did  not  care  to 
let  the  lawyer  know  how  much  he  was  moved,  or  the 
public  perceive  that  he  was  a  stranger.  He  did  not  hear 
much  of  his  companion's  talk,  though  the  latter  chattered 
ceaselessly  on  the  way.  Nor  was  Mr.  Draper  displeased 
by  the  young  Virginian's  silent  and  haughty  demean- 
our. A  hundred  years  ago  a  gentleman  was  a  gentle- 
man, and  his  attorney  his  very  humble  servant. 

The  chamberlain  at  the  "  Bedford "  showed  Mr. 
Warrington  to  his  rooms,  bowing  before  liini  with  de- 
lightful obsequiousness,  for  Gumbo  liad  nlieady  trum- 
peted his  master's  greatness,  and  Mr.  Draper's  clerk 
announced  that  the  new-comer  was  a  "  liigh  fellar." 
Then,  the  rooms  surveyed,  tlie  two  gentlemen  went  to 
Leicester  Field,  Mr.  Gumbo  strutting  behind  his  mas- 
ter:   and  having  looked  at  tlie  scene  of  his  grandsire's 


478  THE  VIRGINIANS 

wound,  and  poor  Lord  Castlewood's  tragedy,  they  re- 
turned to  the  Temple  to  ]Mr.  Draper's  chambers. 

Who  was  that  shabby-looking  big  man  JMr.  Warring- 
ton bowed  to  as  they  went  out  after  dinner  for  a  walk 
in  the  gardens?  That  was  Mr.  Johnson,  an  author, 
whom  he  had  met  at  Tunbridge  Wells.  "  Take  the  ad- 
vice of  a  man  of  the  world,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Draper,  eye- 
ing the  shabby  man  of  letters  very  suj)erciliously ;  "  the 
less  you  have  to  do  with  that  kind  of  person,  the  better. 
The  business  we  have  into  our  office  about  them  literary 
men  is  not  very  pleasant,  I  can  tell  you."  "  Indeed! " 
says  Mr.  Warrington.  He  did  not  like  his  new  friend 
the  more  as  the  latter  grew  more  familiar.  The  theatres 
were  shut.  Should  they  go  to  Sadler's  Wells?  or  Mary- 
bone  Gardens?  or  Ranelagh?  or  how?  "  Not  Rane- 
lagh,"  says  Mr.  Draper,  "  because  there's  none  of  the 
nobility  in  town ;  "  but,  seeing  in  the  newspaper  that  at 
the  entertainment  at  Sadler's  Wells,  Islington,  there 
would  be  the  most  singular  kind  of  diversion  on  eight 
hand-bells  by  JNIr.  Franklyn,  as  well  as  the  surprising 
performances  of  Signora  Cattarina,  Harry  wisely  de- 
termined that  he  would  go  to  Marybone  Gardens,  where 
they  had  a  concert  of  music,  a  choice  of  tea,  coffee,  and 
all  sorts  of  wines,  and  the  benefit  of  Mr,  Draper's  cease- 
less conversation.  The  lawyer's  obsequiousness  only 
ended  at  Harry's  bedroom  door,  where,  with  haughty 
grandeur,  the  young  gentleman  bade  his  talkative  host 
good-night. 

The  next  morning,  Mr.  Warrington,  arrayed  in  his 
brocade  bed-gown,  took  his  breakfast,  read  the  news- 
paper, and  enjoyed  his  ease  in  his  inn.  He  read  in  the 
paper  news  from  his  own  country.  And  when  he  saw 
the  words,  Williamsburg,  Virginia,  June  7th,  his  eyes 


A  Renconire  in 
Fleut  8Lroot 


THE  VIRGINIANS  479 

grew  dim  somehow.  He  had  just  had  letters  by  that 
packet  of  June  7th,  but  his  mother  did  not  tell  how—"  A 
great  number  of  the  principal  gentry  of  the  colony  have 
associated  themselves  under  the  command  of  the  Hon- 
ourable Peyton  Randolph,  Esquire,  to  march  to  the  re- 
lief of  their  distressed  fellow-subjects,  and  revenge  the 
cruelties  of  the  French  and  their  barbarous  allies. 
They  are  in  a  uniform:  viz.,  a  plain  blue  frock,  nanquin 
or  brown  waistcoats  and  breeches,  and  plain  hats.  They 
are  armed  each  with  a  light  firelock,  a  brace  of  pistols, 
and  a  cutting  sword." 

"  Ah,  why  ain't  we  there,  Gumbo?  "  cried  out  Harry. 

"  Why  ain't  we  dar?  "  shouted  Gumbo. 

"  Why  am  I  here,  dangling  at  women's  trains?  "  con- 
tinued the  Virginian. 

"  Think  dangling  at  women's  trains  very  pleasant, 
Master  Harry!  "  says  the  materialistic  Gumbo,  who  was 
also  very  little  affected  by  some  further  home  news 
which  his  master  read;  viz.,  that  "  The  Lovely  Sally," 
Virginia  ship,  had  been  taken  in  sight  of  port  by  a 
French  privateer. 

And  now  reading  that  the  finest  mare  in  England, 
and  a  pair  of  very  genteel  bay  geldings,  were  to  be  sold 
at  the  "  Bull  "  inn,  the  lower  end  of  Hatton  Garden, 
Harry  determined  to  go  and  look  at  the  animals,  and  in- 
quired his  way  to  the  place.  He  then  and  there  bought 
the  genteel  bay  geldings,  and  ])ai(l  for  tliein  with  easy 
generosity.  He  never  said  what  he  did  on  that  day,  be- 
ing shy  of  appearing  like  a  stranger;  but  it  is  believed 
that  he  took  a  coach  and  went  to  Westminster  Abbey, 
from  wliich  he  bade  the  coachman  drive  him  to  the 
Tower,  then  to  Mrs.  Salmon's  Waxwork,  then  to  Hyde 
Park  and  Kensington  l*alace;  then  he  had  given  orders 


480  THE  VIRGINIANS 

to  go  to  the  Royal  Exchange,  but  catching  a  ghmpse  of 
Covent  Garden,  on  his  way  to  the  Exchange,  he  bade 
Jehu  take  him  to  his  inn,  and  cut  short  his  enumeration 
of  23laces  to  which  he  had  been,  by  flinging  the  fellow  a 
guinea. 

]\Ir.  Draper  had  called  in  his  absence,  and  said  he 
would  come  again;  but  Mr.  Warrington,  having  dined 
sumptuously  by  himself,  went  off  nimbly  to  Marybone 
Gardens  again,  in  the  same  noble  company. 

As  he  issued  forth  the  next  day,  the  bells  of  St. 
Paul's,  Covent  Garden,  were  ringing  for  morning  pray- 
ers, and  reminded  him  that  friend  Sampson  was  going 
to  preach  his  sermon.  Harry  smiled.  He  had  begun 
to  have  a  shrewd  and  just  opinion  of  the  value  of  Mr. 
Sampson's  sermons. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 


poop. 


IN    WHICH    VARIOUS    MATCHES   ARE   FOUGHT 

EADING  in  the  London  Ad- 
vertiser, which  was  served 
to  his  worship  with  his 
breakfast,  an  invitation  to 
all  lovers  of  manly  British 
sport  to  come  and  witness 
a  trial  of  skill  between  the 
great  champions  Sutton 
and  Figg,  JNIr.  Warring- 
ton determined  upon  at- 
tending these  perform- 
ances, and  accordingly  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Wooden 
House  in  INIarybone  Fields,  driving  thither  the  pair  of 
horses  which  he  had  purchased  on  the  previous  day.  The 
young  charioteer  did  not  know  the  road  very  well,  and 
veered  and  tacked  very  much  more  than  was  needful 
upon  his  journey  from  Covent  Garden,  losing  himself 
in  the  green  lanes  behind  Mr.  Whitfield's  round  Tab- 
ernacle of  Tottenham  Road,  and  the  fields  in  the  midst 
of  which  Middlesex  II()S])ital  stood.  Tie  reached  liis  des- 
tination at  length,  however,  and  found  no  small  com- 
pany assembled  to  witness  the  valorous  achievements 
of  the  two  champions. 

A  crowd  of  London  blackguards  was  gatliered  round 
the  doors  of  this  temple  of  British  valour;  together  with 

4m 


482  THE  VIRGINIANS 

the  horses  and  equipages  of  a  few  persons  of  fashion, 
who  came,  hke  Mr.  Warrington,  to  patronize  the  sport. 
A  variety  of  beggars  and  cripples  hustled  round  the 
young  gentleman,  and  whined  to  him  for  charity. 
Shoe-black  boys  tumbled  over  each  other  for  the  privi- 
lege of  blacking  his  honour's  boots;  nosegay  women 
and  flying  fruiterers  plied  ]Mr.  Gumbo  with  their  wares ; 
piemen,  pads,  tramps,  strollers  of  every  variety,  hung 
round  the  battle-ground.  A  flag  was  flying  upon  the 
building :  and,  on  to  the  stage  in  front,  accompanied  by  a 
drummer  and  a  horn-blower,  a  manager  repeatedly  is- 
sued to  announce  to  the  crowd  that  the  noble  English 
sports  were  just  about  to  begin. 

Mr.  Warrington  paid  his  money,  and  was  accommo- 
dated with  a  seat  in  a  gallery  commanding  a  perfect  view 
of  the  platform  whereon  the  sports  were  performed ;  Mr. 
Gumbo  took  his  seat  in  the  amphitheatre  below ;  or,  when 
tired,  issued  forth  into  the  outer  world  to  drink  a  pot  of 
beer,  or  play  a  game  at  cards  with  his  brother  lacqueys, 
and  the  gentlemen's  coachmen  on  the  boxes  of  the  car- 
riages waiting  without.  Lacqueys,  liveries,  footmen — 
the  old  society  was  encumbered  with  a  prodigious  quan- 
tity of  these.  Gentle  men  or  women  could  scarce  move 
without  one,  sometimes  two  or  three,  vassals  in  atten- 
dance. Every  theatre  had  its  footman's  gallery:  an 
army  of  the  liveried  race  hustled  around  every  chapel- 
door:  they  swarmed  in  ante-rooms:  they  sprawled  in 
halls  and  on  landings:  they  guzzled,  devoured,  de- 
bauched,  cheated,  played  cards,  bullied  visitors  for  vails: 
— that  noble  old  race  of  footmen  is  well  nigh  gone.  A 
few  thousand  of  them  may  still  be  left  among  us. 
Grand,  tall,  beautiful,  melancholy,  we  still  behold  them 
on  levee  days,  with  their  nosegays  and  their  buckles,  their 


THE  VIRGINIANS  483 

plush  and  their  powder.  So  have  I  seen  in  America 
specimens,  nay  camps  and  villages  of  Red  Indians.  But 
■  the  race  is  doomed.  The  fatal  decree  has  gone  forth,  and 
Uncas  with  his  tomahawk  and  eagle's  plume,  and  Jeames 
with  his  cocked  hat  and  long  cane,  are  passing  out  of 
the  world  where  they  once  walked  in  glory. 

Before  the  principal  combatants  made  their  appear- 
ance, minor  warriors  and  exercises  were  exhibited.  A 
boxing-match  came  off,  but  neither  of  the  men  were 
very  game  or  severely  punished,  so  that  ]Mr.  Warrington 
and  the  rest  of  the  spectators  had  but  little  pleasure  out 
of  that  encounter.  Then  ensued  some  cudgel-playing; 
but  the  heads  broken  were  of  so  little  note,  and  the 
wounds  given  so  trifling  and  unsatisfactory,  that  no 
wonder  the  company  began  to  hiss,  grumble,  and  show 
other  signs  of  discontent.  "  The  masters,  the  masters!  " 
shouted  the  people,  whereupon  those  famous  champions 
at  length  thought  fit  to  appear. 

The  first  who  w^alked  up  the  steps  to  the  stage  was  the 
intrepid  Sutton,  sword  in  hand,  who  saluted  the  com- 
pany with  his  warlike  weapon,  making  an  especial  bow 
and  salute  to  a  private  box  or  gallery  in  which  sat  a  stout 
gentlemen,  who  was  seemingly  a  person  of  importance. 
Sutton  was  speedily  followed  by  the  famous  Figg,  to 
whom  the  stout  gentleman  waved  a  hand  of  approbation. 
Both  men  were  in  their  shirts,  their  heads  were  shaven 
clean,  but  bore  tlie  cracks  and  scars  of  many  former 
glorious  battles.  On  his  burly  sword-arm,  cacli  intrepid 
champion  wore  an  "  armigcr,"  or  ril)b()n  of  his  colour. 
And  now  the  gladiators  shof)k  hatids,  and,  as  a  contem- 
porary poet  says:  "  Tlic  word  it  was  bilboc."  ' 

'  The  antifjuarian  rffulcr  kriDws  tlx-  pleasant  pofrri  in  Hk-  sixth  volnmc  of 
Dod.sl<;y"s  Collection,  in  wliitli  the  alx^ve  conibat  is  described. 


484  THE  VIRGINIANS 

At  the  commencement  of  the  combat  the  great  Figg 
dealt  a  blow  so  tremendous  at  his  opponent,  that  had  it 
encountered  the  other's  head,  that  comely  noddle  would 
have  been  shorn  off  as  clean  as  the  carving-knife  chops 
the  carrot.  But  Sutton  received  his  adversary's  blade 
on  his  own  sword,  whilst  Figg's  blow  was  delivered  so 
mightily  that  the  weapon  brake  in  his  hands,  less  constant 
than  the  heart  of  him  who  wielded  it.  Other  swords 
were  now  delivered  to  the  warriors.  The  first  blood 
drawn  spouted  from  the  panting  side  of  Figg  amidst 
a  yell  of  delight  from  Sutton's  supporters;  but  the 
veteran  appealing  to  his  audience,  and  especially,  as  it 
seemed,  to  the  stout  individual  in  the  private  gallery, 
showed  that  his  sword  broken  in  the  previous  encounter 
had  caused  the  wound. 

Whilst  the  parley  occasioned  by  this  incident  was  go- 
ing on,  Mr.  Warrington  saw  a  gentleman  in  a  riding- 
frock  and  plain  scratch-wig  enter  the  box  devoted  to 
the  stout  personage,  and  recognized  with  pleasure  his 
Tunbridge  Wells  friend,  my  Lord  of  March  and  Rug- 
len.  Lord  March,  who  was  by  no  means  prodigal  of 
politeness,  seemed  to  show  singular  deference  to  the 
stout  gentleman,  and  Harry  remarked  how  his  lordship 
received,  with  a  profound  bow,  some  bank  bills  which  the 
other  took  out  from  a  pocket-book  and  handed  to  him. 
Whilst  thus  engaged.  Lord  March  spied  out  our  Vir- 
ginian, and,  his  interview  with  the  stout  personage  fin- 
ished, my  lord  came  over  to  Harry's  gallery  and  warmly 
greeted  his  young  friend.  They  sat  and  beheld  the  com- 
bat waging  with  various  success,  but  with  immense  skill 
and  valour  on  both  sides.  After  the  warriors  had  suffi- 
ciently fought  with  swords,  they  fell  to  with  the  quarter- 
staff,  and  the  result  of  this  long  and  delightful  battle 


THE  VIRGINIANS  485 

was,  that  victory  remained  with  her  ancient  champion 
Figg. 

Whilst  the  warriors  were  at  battle,  a  thunderstorm  had 
broken  over  the  building,  and  ]Mr.  Warrington  gladly- 
enough  accepted  a  seat  in  my  Lord  March's  chariot, 
leaving  his  own  phaeton  to  be  driven  home  by  his  groom. 
Harry  was  in  great  delectation  with  the  noble  sight  he 
had  witnessed:  he  pronounced  this  indeed  to  be  some- 
thing like  sport,  and  of  the  best  he  had  seen  since  his 
arrival  in  England:  and,  as  usual,  associating  any  plea- 
sure which  he  enjoyed  with  the  desire  that  the  dear 
companion  of  his  boyhood  should  share  the  amusement 
in  common  with  him,  he  began  by  sighing  out,  "  I  wish  " 
....  then  he  stopped.    "  No,  I  don't,"  says  he. 

"  What  do  you  wish  and  what  don't  you  wish?  "  asked 
Lord  jNIarch. 

"  I  was  thinking,  my  lord,  of  my  elder  brother,  and 
wished  he  had  been  with  me.  We  had  promised  to  have 
our  S]3ort  together,  at  home,  you  see;  and  many's  the 
time  we  talked  of  it.  But  he  would  n't  have  liked  this 
rough  sort  of  sport,  and  didn't  care  for  fighting,  though 
he  was  the  bravest  lad  alive." 

"  Oh!  he  was  the  bravest  lad  alive,  was  he?  "  asks  my 
lord,  lolling  on  his  cushion,  and  eyeing  his  Virginian 
friend  with  some  curiosity. 

"  You  should  have  seen  him  in  a  quarrel  with  a  very 
gallant  officer,  our  friend  — an  absurd  affair,  but  it  was 
hard  to  keep  George  off  him.  I  never  saw  a  fellow  so 
cool,  nor  more  savage  and  determined,  God  help  me. 
Ah!  I  wisl)  for  the  lionour  of  tlie  country,  you  know,  that 
he  could  have  come  here  instead  of  me,  and  sliown  you  a 
real  Virginian  gentleman." 

"  Nay,  sir,  yoiTIl  do  very  well.     What  is  lliis  T  hear 


486  THE  VIRGINIANS 

of  Lady  Yarmouth  taking  you  into  favour? "  said  the 
amused  nobleman. 

"  I  will  do  as  well  as  another.  I  can  ride,  and,  I 
think,  I  can  shoot  better  than  George;  but  then  my 
brother  had  the  head,  sir,  the  head!  "  says  Harry,  tap- 
ping his  own  honest  skull.  "  Why,  I  give  you  my  word, 
my  lord,  that  he  had  read  almost  every  book  that  was 
ever  written;  could  play  both  on  the  fiddle  and  harpsi- 
chord, could  compose  poetry  and  sermons  most  elegant. 
What  can  I  do?  I  am  only  good  to  ride  and  play  at 
cards,  and  drink  Burgundy."  And  the  penitent  hung 
down  his  head.  "  But  them  I  can  do  as  well  as  most 
fellows,  you  see.  In  fact,  my  lord,  I'll  back  myself," 
he  resumed,  to  the  other's  great  amusement. 

Lord  March  relished  the  young  man's  naivete,  as  the 
jaded  voluptuary  still  to  the  end  always  can  relish  the 
juicy  wholesome  mutton-chop.  "  By  gad,  Mr.  War- 
rington," says  he,  "  you  ought  to  be  taken  to  Exeter 
Change,  and  put  in  a  show." 

"And  for  why?" 

"  A  gentleman  from  Virginia  who  has  lost  his  elder 
brother  and  absolutely  regrets  him.  The  breed  ain't 
known  in  this  country.  Upon  my  honour  and  con- 
science, I  believe  that  you  would  like  to  have  him  back 
again." 

"Believe!"  cries  the  Virginian,  growing  red  in  the 
face. 

"  That  is,  you  believe  you  believe  you  would  like  him 
back  again.  But  depend  on  it  you  wouldn't.  'Tis  not 
in  human  nature,  sir;  not  as  I  read  it,  at  least.  Here 
are  some  fine  houses  we  are  coming  to.  That  at  the 
corner  is  Sir  Richard  Littleton's,  that  great  one  was  my 
Lord  Bingley's.    'Tis  a  pity  they  do  nothing  better  with 


THE  VIRGINIANS  487 

this  great  empty  space  of  Cavendish  Square  than  fence 
it  with  these  unsightly  boards.  By  George!  I  don't 
know  where  the  town's  running.  There's  JNIontagu 
House  made  into  a  confounded  Don  Saltero's  museum, 
with  books  and  stuffed  birds  and  rhinoceroses.  They 
have  actually  run  a  cursed  cut— New  Road  they  call 
it — at  the  back  of  Bedford  House  Gardens,  and  spoiled 
the  Duke's  comfort,  though  I  guess  they  will  console 
him  in  the  pocket.  I  don't  know  where  the  town  will 
stop.  Shall  we  go  down  Tyburn  Road  and  the  Park, 
or  through  Swallow  Street,  and  into  the  habitable  quar- 
ter of  the  town?  We  can  dine  at  Pall  Mall,  or,  if  you 
like,  with  you ;  and  we  can  spend  the  evening  as  you  like 
— with  the  Queen  of  Spades,  or  .  .  .  ." 

"  With  the  Queen  of  Spades,  if  your  lordship 
pleases,"  says  Mr.  Warrington,  blushing.  So  the 
equipage  drove  to  his  hotel  in  Covent  Garden,  where  the 
landlord  came  forward  with  his  usual  obsequiousness, 
and  recognizing  my  Lord  of  March  and  Ruglen,  bowed 
his  wig  on  to  my  lord's  shoes  in  his  humble  welcomes  to 
his  lordship.  A  rich  young  English  peer  in  the  reign 
of  George  the  Second;  a  wealthy  patrician  in  tlie  reign 
of  Augustus;  which  would  you  rather  have  been? 
There  is  a  question  for  any  young  gentlemen's  debat- 
ing-clubs  of  the  present  day. 

The  best  English  dinner  which  could  be  produced,  of 
course,  was  at  the  service  of  the  young  Virginian  and 
his  noble  friend.  After  dinner  came  wine  in  plenty, 
and  of  (luality  good  enough  even  for  tlie  epicurean 
Earl.  Over  the  wine  there  was  talk  of  going  to  see  the 
fireworks  at  Vauxhall,  or  else  of  cards.  Harry,  who  had 
never  seen  a  firework  beyond  an  exhibition  of  a  dozen 
squibs    at    WiUiamsbiH'g    on    Uic    fil'lh    of    November 


488  THE  VIRGINIANS 

(which  he  thought  a  siibhme  display),  would  have  liked 
the  Vauxhall,  but  yielded  to  his  guest's  preference  for 
picquet ;  and  they  w^re  veiy  soon  absorbed  in  that  game. 

Harry  began  by  winning  as  usual;  but,  in  the  course 
of  a  half-hour,  the  luck  turned  and  favoured  my  Lord 
IMarch,  who  was  at  first  very  surly,  when  Mr.  Draper, 
JNIr.  Warrington's  man  of  business,  came  bowing  into 
the  room,  where  he  accepted  Harry's  invitation  to  sit 
and  drink.  JNIr.  Warrington  always  asked  everybody 
to  sit  and  drink,  and  partake  of  his  best.  Had  he  a 
crust,  he  would  divide  it;  had  he  a  haunch,  he  would 
share  it;  had  he  a  jug  of  water,  he  would  drink  about 
with  a  kindly  spirit ;  had  he  a  bottle  of  Burgundy,  it  was 
gaily  drunk  with  a  thirsty  friend.  And  don't  fancy 
the  virtue  is  common.  You  read  of  it  in  books,  my  dear 
sir,  and  fancy  that  you  have  it  yourself  because  you  give 
six  dinners  of  twenty  people  and  pay  your  acquaintance 
all  round;  but  the  welcome,  the  friendly  spirit,  the 
kindly  heart  ?  Believe  me,  these  are  rare  qualities  in  our 
selfish  world.  We  may  bring  them  with  us  from  the 
country  when  we  are  young,  but  they  mostly  wither 
after  transplantation,  and  droop  and  perish  in  the 
stifling  London  air. 

Draper  did  not  care  for  wine  very  much,  but  it  de- 
lighted the  lawyer  to  be  in  the  company  of  a  great  man. 
He  protested  that  he  liked  nothing  better  than  to  see 
picquet  played  by  two  consummate  players  and  men  of 
fashion;  and,  taking  a  seat,  undismayed  by  the  sidelong 
scowls  of  his  lordship,  surveyed  the  game  between  the 
gentlemen.  Harry  was  not  near  a  match  for  the  ex- 
perienced player  of  the  London  clubs.  To-night,  too. 
Lord  INIarch  held  better  cards  to  aid  his  skill. 

What   their   stakes   were   was   no   business   of   Mr. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  489 

Draper's.  The  gentlemen  said  they  would  play  for 
shillings,  and  afterwards  counted  up  their  gains  and 
losses,  with  scarce  any  talking,  and  that  in  an  under 
tone.  A  bow  on  both  sides,  a  perfectly  grave  and  polite 
manner  on  the  part  of  each,  and  the  game  went  on. 

But  it  was  destined  to  a  second  interruption,  which 
brought  an  execration  from  Lord  March's  lips.  First 
was  heard  a  scuffling  without — then  a  whispering — then 
an  outcry  as  of  a  woman  in  tears,  and  then,  finally,  a 
female  rushed  into  the  room,  and  produced  that  explo- 
sion of  naughty  language  from  Lord  INIarch. 

*'  I  wish  your  women  would  take  some  other  time  for 
coming,  confound  'em,"  says  my  lord,  laying  his  cards 
down  in  a  pet. 

"  What,  Mrs.  Betty!  "  cried  Harry. 

Indeed  it  was  no  other  than  Mrs.  Betty,  Lady  Maria's 
maid ;  and  Gumbo  stood  behind  her,  his  fine  countenance 
beslobbered  with  tears. 

"What  has  happened?"  asks  Mr.  Warrington,  in 
no  little  perturbation  of  spirit.  "  The  Baroness  is 
well?" 

"Help!  help!  sir,  your  honour!"  ejaculates  Mrs. 
Betty,  and  proceeds  to  fall  on  her  knees. 

"  Helji  whom?  " 

A  howl  ensues  from  Gumbo. 

"Gumbo,  you  scoundrel!  has  anything  happened 
between  Mrs.  Betty  and  you?  "  asks  the  black's  master. 

Mr.  Gumbo  steps  back  with  great  dignity,  laying  his 
hand  on  his  heart,  and  saying,  "  No,  sir;  nothing  hab 
happened  'twix'  this  lady  and  me." 

"  It's  my  mistress,  sir,"  cries  Betty.  "  Help!  Iielp! 
here's  the  letter  she  have  wrote,  sir!  They  have  gone 
and  took  her,  sir!  " 


490  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  Is  it  only  that  old  Molly  Esmond?  She's  known 
to  be  over  head  and  heels  in  debt !  Dry  your  eyes  in  the 
next  room,  Mrs.  Betty,  and  let  me  and  Mr.  Warrington 
go  on  with  our  game,"  says  my  lord,  taking  up  his 
cards. 

"Help!  help  her!"  cries  Betty  again.  "Oh,  Mr. 
Harry!  you  won't  be  a-going  on  with  your  cards,  when 
my  lady  calls  out  to  you  to  come  and  help  her!  Your 
honour  used  to  come  quick  enough  when  my  lady  used 
to  send  me  to  fetch  vou  at  Castlewood !  " 

"  Confound  you!  can't  you  hold  your  tongue? "  says 
my  lord,  with  more  choice  words  and  oaths. 

But  Betty  would  not  cease  weeping,  and  it  was  de- 
creed that  Lord  March  was  to  cease  winning  for  that 
night.  Mr.  Warrington  rose  from  his  seat,  and  made 
for  the  bell,  saying : 

"  My  dear  lord,  the  game  must  be  over  for  to-night. 
My  relative  writes  to  me  in  great  distress,  and  I  am 
bound  to  go  to  her." 

"  Curse  her!  Why  couldn't  she  wait  till  to-mor- 
row? "  cries  my  lord,  testily. 

Mr.  Warrington  ordered  a  post-chaise  instantly. 
His  own  horses  would  take  him  to  Bromley. 

"  Bet  you,  you  don't  do  it  within  the  hour!  bet  you, 
you  don't  do  it  within  five  quarters  of  an  hour!  bet  you 
four  to  one — or  I'll  take  your  bet,  which  you  please — 
that  you're  not  robbed  on  Blackheath!  Bet  you,  you 
are  not  at  Tunbridge  Wells  before  midnight!"  cries 
Lord  March. 

"  Done!  "  says  Mr.  Warrington.  And  my  lord  care- 
fully notes  down  the  terms  of  the  three  wagers  in  his 
pocket-book. 

Lady  Maria's  letter  ran  as  follows: — 


,ll 

f 

(  M 

1 

1 

1 

^ 

Bad  Newa  IVom  Tunbridge 


THE  VIRGINIANS  491 

"  My  dear  Cousin, —  I  am  fell  into  a  frapp,  w'^'^  I  perceive 
the  machinations  of  vilUans.  I  am  a  prisner.  Betty  will  tell  you 
all.    Ah,  my  Henrico !  come  to  the  resQ  of  your 

"  Molly.  " 

In  half-an-hoiir  after  the  receipt  of  this  missive,  Mr. 
Warrington  was  in  his  post-chaise  and  galloping  over 
Westminster  Bridge  on  the  road  to  succour  his  kins- 
woman. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 


SAMPSON    AND    THE    PHILISTINES 


happy  chance  in 
early  Ufe  led  me 
to  become  inti- 
mate with  a  re- 
spectable person 
who  was  born  in 
,  a  certain  island, 
I  which  is  pro- 
nounced to  be 
the  first  gem  of 
the  ocean  by,  no 
J  doubt,  impartial 
'  judges  of  mari- 
time jewellery. 
The  stories  which  that  person  imparted  to  me  regarding 
his  relatives  who  inhabited  the  gem  above  mentioned, 
were  such  as  used  to  make  my  young  blood  curdle  with 
horror  to  think  there  should  be  so  much  wickedness  in 
the  world.  Every  crime  which  you  can  think  of;  the 
entire  Ten  Commandments  broken  in  a  general  smash: 
such  rogueries  and  knaveries  as  no  story-teller  could 
invent;  such  murders  and  robberies  as  Thurtell  or 
Turpin  scarce  ever  perpetrated; — were  by  my  infor- 
mant accurately  remembered,  and  freelj^  related,  re- 
specting his  nearest  kindred  to  any  one  who  chose  to 
hear  him.    It  was  a  wonder  how  any  of  the  family  still 

492 


THE  VIRGINIANS  493 

lived  out  of  the  hulks.  "  Me  brother  Tim  had  brought 
his  fawther's  gree  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  greeve: 
"^e  brother  Mick  had  robbed  the  par'sh  church  repay- 
tedly:  me  sisther  Annamaroia  had  jilted  the  Captain 
and  ran  off  with  tlie  Ensign,  forged  her  grandmother's 
will,  and  stole  the  spoons,  which  Larry  the  knife-boy  was 
hanged  for."  The  family  of  Atreus  was  as  nothing 
compared  to  the  race  of  O'What-d'ye-call'em,  from 
which  my  friend  sprung;  but  no  power  on  earth  would, 
of  course,  induce  me  to  name  the  country  whence  he 
came. 

How  great  then  used  to  be  my  naif  astonishment  to 
find  these  murderers,  rogues,  parricides,  habitual  for- 
gers of  bills  of  exchange,  and  so  forth,  every  now  and 
then  writing  to  each  other  as  "  my  dearest  brother," 
"  my  dearest  sister,"  and  for  months  at  a  time  living  on 
the  most  amicable  terms!  With  hands  reeking  with  the 
blood  of  his  murdered  parents,  Tim  would  mix  a 
screeching  tumbler,  and  give  Maria  a  glass  from  it. 
With  lips  black  with  the  perjuries  he  had  sworn  in 
Court  respecting  his  grandmother's  abstracted  testa- 
ment, or  the  murder  of  his  poor  brother  Thady's  help- 
less orphans,  jNIick  would  kiss  his  sister  Julia's  bonny 
cheek,  and  they  woidd  have  a  jolly  night,  and  cry  as 
they  talked  about  old  times,  and  the  dear  old  Castle 
What-d'ye-call'em,  where  they  were  born,  and  the 
fighting  Onetyoneth  being  quarthered  there,  and  the 
Major  proposing  for  Cyaroloine,  and  the  tomb  of  their 
scented  mother  ( who  had  chayted  them  out  of  the  prop- 
ertee),  heaven  bless  her  soul!  They  used  to  weep  and 
kiss  so  profusely  at  meeting  and  ])arting,  that  it  was 
touching  to  behold  them.  At  the  sight  of  their  embraces 
one  forgfjt  those  painful  little  stories,  and  tliose  repeated 


494  THE  VIRGINIANS 

previous  assurances  that,  did  they  tell  all,  they  could 
hang  each  other  all  round. 

What  can  there  be  finer  than  forgiveness?  What 
more  rational  than,  after  calling  a  man  by  every  bad« 
name  under  the  sun,  to  apologize,  regret  hasty  expres- 
sions, and  so  forth,  withdraw  the  decanter  (say)  which 
you  have  flung  at  your  enemy's  head,  and  be  friends  as 
before?  Some  folks  possess  this  admirable,  this  angel- 
like gift  of  forgiveness.  It  was  beautiful,  for  instance, 
to  see  our  two  ladies  at  Tunbridge  Wells  forgiving  one 
another,  smiling,  joking,  fondling  almost  in  spite  of  the 
hard  words  of  yesterday— yes,  and  forgetting  bygones, 
though  they  couldn't  help  remembering  them  perfectly 
well.  I  wonder,  can  you  and  I  do  as  much?  Let  us 
strive,  my  friend,  to  acquire  this  pacable.  Christian 
spirit.  My  belief  is  that  you  may  learn  to  forgive  bad 
language  employed  to  you;  but,  then,  you  must  have  a 
deal  of  practice,  and  be  accustomed  to  hear  and  use  it. 
You  embrace  after  a  quarrel  and  mutual  bad  language. 
Heaven  bless  us!  Bad  words  are  nothing  when  one  is 
accustomed  to  them,  and  scarce  need  ruffle  the  temper 
on  either  side. 

So  the  aunt  and  niece  played  cards  very  amicably 
together,  and  drank  to  each  other's  health,  and  each  took 
a  wing  of  the  chicken,  and  pulled  a  bone  of  the  merry- 
thought, and  (in  conversation)  scratched  their  neigh- 
bours', not  each  other's,  eyes  out.  Thus  we  have  read 
how  the  Peninsular  warriors,  when  the  bugles  sang 
truce,  fraternized  and  exchanged  tobacco-pouches  and 
wine,  ready  to  seize  their  firelocks  and  knock  each  oth- 
er's heads  off  when  the  truce  was  over;  and  thus  our 
old  soldiers,  skilful  in  war,  but  knowing  the  charms 
of  a  quiet  life,  laid  their  weapons  down  for  the  nonce, 


•w»5- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  495 

and  hob-and-nobbed  gaily  together.  Of  course,  whilst 
drinking  with  Jack  Frenchman,  you  have  your  piece 
handy  to  blow  his  brains  out  if  he  makes  a  hostile  move ; 
but,  meanwhile,  it  is  a  voire  sante,  mon  camarade! 
Here's  to  you,  Mounseer!  and  everything  is  as  pleasant 
as  possible.  Regarding  Aunt  Bernstein's  threatened 
gout?  The  twinges  had  gone  off.  Maria  was  so  glad! 
JNIaria's  fainting  fits?  She  had  no  return  of  them.  A 
slight  recurrence  last  night.  The  Baroness  was  so 
sorrjM  Her  niece  must  see  the  best  doctor,  take  every- 
thing to  fortify  her,  continue  to  take  the  steel,  even  after 
she  left  Tunbridge.  How  kind  of  Aunt  Bernstein  to 
offer  to  send  some  of  the  bottled  waters  after  her! 
Suppose  Madame  Bernstein  says  in  confidence  to  her 
own  woman,  "Fainting  fits!— pooh!— epilepsy!  inher- 
ited from  that  horrible  scrofulous  German  mother!" 
What  means  have  we  of  knowing  the  private  conversa- 
tion of  the  old  lady  and  her  attendant?  Suppose  Lady 
Maria  orders  Mrs.  Betty,  her  ladyship's  maid,  to  taste 
every  glass  of  medicinal  water,  first  declaring  that  her 
aunt  is  capable  of  poisoning  her?  Very  likely  such  con- 
versations take  place.  These  are  but  precautions — these 
are  the  firelocks  which  our  old  soldiers  have  at  their 
sides,  loaded  and  cocked,  but  at  present  lying  quiet  on 
the  grass. 

Having  Harry's  bond  in  her  pocket,  the  veteran 
Maria  did  not  choose  to  press  for  payment.  She  knew 
the  world  too  well  for  that.  He  was  bound  to  her,  but 
she  gave  him  plenty  of  day-rule,  and  leave  of  absence 
on  parole.  It  was  not  her  object  needlessly  to  chafe  and 
anger  her  young  slave.  She  knew  the  difference  of 
ages,  and  that  Harry  must  have  his  pleasures  and  di- 
versions.    "  Take  your  ease  and  amusement,  cousin," 


496  THE  VIRGINIANS 

says  Lady  Maria.  "  Frisk  about,  pretty  little  mouse- 
kin,"  says  grey  Grimalkin,  purring  in  the  corner,  and 
keeping  watch  with  her  green  eyes.  About  all  that 
Harry  was  to  see  and  do  on  his  first  visit  to  London,  his 
female  relatives  had  of  course  talked  and  joked.  Both 
of  the  ladies  knew  perfectly  what  were  a  young  gentle- 
man's ordinary  amusements  in  those  days,  and  spoke  of 
them  with  the  frankness  which  characterized  those  easy 
times. 

Our  wily  Calypso  consoled  herself,  then,  perfectly, 
in  the  absence  of  her  young  wanderer,  and  took  any  di- 
version which  came  to  hand.  Mr.  Jack  Morris,  the  gen- 
tleman whom  we  have  mentioned  as  rejoicing  in  the 
company  of  Lord  March  and  Mr.  Warrington,  was  one 
of  these  diversions.  To  live  with  titled  personages  was 
the  delight  of  Jack  Morris's  life;  and  to  lose  money  at 
cards  to  an  earl's  daughter  was  almost  a  pleasure  to  him. 
Now,  the  Lady  Maria  Esmond  was  an  earl's  daughter, 
who  was  very  glad  to  win  money.  She  obtained  permis- 
sion to  take  Mr.  Morris  to  the  Countess  of  Yarmouth's 
assembly,  and  played  cards  with  him— and  so  everybody 
was  pleased. 

Thus  the  first  eight-and-forty  hours  after  Mr.  War- 
rington's departure  passed  pretty  cheerily  at  Tunbridge 
Wells,  and  Friday  arrived,  when  the  sermon  was  to  be 
delivered  which  we  have  seen  Mr.  Sampson  preparing. 
The  company  at  the  Wells  were  ready  enough  to  listen 
to  it.  Sampson  had  a  reputation  for  being  a  most  amus- 
ing and  eloquent  preacher;  and  if  there  were  no  break- 
fast, conjuror,  dancing  bears,  concert  going  on,  the  good 
Wells  folk  would  put  up  with  a  sermon.  He  knew 
Lady  Yarmouth  was  coming,  and  what  a  power  she  had 
in  the  giving  of  livings  and  the  dispensing  of  bishoprics, 


( 


THE  VIRGINIANS  497 

the  Defender  of  the  Faith  of  that  day  having  a  remark- 
»able  confidence  in  her  ladyship's  opinion  upon  these 
matters; — and  so  we  may  be  sure  that  Mr.  Sampson 
prepared  his  very  best  discourse  for  her  hearing.  When 
the  Great  INIan  is  at  home  at  the  Gastle,  and  walks  over 
to  the  little  country  church  in  the  park,  bringing  the 
Duke,  the  Marquis,  and  a  couple  of  Cabinet  Ministers 
with  him,  has  it  ever  been  your  lot  to  sit  among  the  con- 
gregation, and  watch  ]\Ir.  Trotter  the  curate  and  his  ser- 
mon? He  looks  anxiously  at  the  Great  Pew;  he  falters 
as  he  gives  out  his  text,  and  thinks,  "  Ah,  perhaps  his 
lordship  may  give  me  a  living!  "  Mrs.  Trotter  and  the 
girls  look  anxiously  at  the  Great  Pew,  too,  and  watch 
the  effects  of  papa's  discourse — the  well-known  favour- 
ite discourse — upon  the  big-wigs  assembled.  Papa's 
first  nervousness  is  over:  his  noble  voice  clears,  warms 
to  his  sermon:  he  kindles:  he  takes  his  pocket-handker- 
chief out:  he  is  coming  to  that  exquisite  passage  which 
has  made  them  all  cry  at  the  parsonage:  he  has  begun 
it!  Ah!  What  is  that  humming  noise,  which  fills  the 
edifice,  and  causes  hob-nailed  Meliboeus  to  grin  at 
smock-f rocked  Tityrus?  It  is  the  Right  Honourable 
Lord  Naseby,  snoring  in  the  pew  by  the  fire !  And  poor 
Trotter's  visionary  mitre  disappears  with  the  music. 

Sampson  was  the  domestic  chaplain  of  Madame 
Bernstein's  nephew.  The  two  ladies  of  the  Esmond 
family  patronized  the  preacher.  On  the  day  of  the  ser- 
mon, the  Baroness  had  a  little  breakfast  in  liis  honour, 
at  wliich  Sampson  made  his  appearance,  rosy  and  hand- 
some, with  a  fresh-flowered  wig,  and  a  smart,  rustling 
new  cassock,  which  he  had  on  credit  from  some  church- 
admiring  mercer  at  the  Wells.  By  the  side  of  his  pa- 
tronesses, their  ladyships'  lacqueys  walking  beliind  them 


498  THE  VIRGINIANS 

with  their  great  gilt  prayer-books,  Mr.  Sampson 
marched  from  breakfast  to  church.  Every  one  re- 
marked how  well  the  Baroness  Bernstein  looked;  she 
laughed,  and  was  particularly  friendly  with  her  niece; 
she  had  a  bow  and  a  stately  smile  for  all,  as  she  moved 
on,  with  her  tortoiseshell  cane.  At  the  door  there  was 
a  dazzling  conflux  of  rank  and  fashion— all  the  fine 
company  of  the  Wells  trooping  in ;  and  her  ladyship  of 
Yarmouth,  consjMcuous  with  vermilion  cheeks,  and  a 
robe  of  flame-coloured  taffeta.  There  were  shabby 
people  present,  besides  the  fine  company,  though  these 
latter  were  by  far  the  most  numerous.  What  an  odd- 
looking  pair,  for  instance,  were  those  in  ragged  coats, 
one  of  them  with  his  carroty  hair  a23pearing  under  his 
scratch-wig,  and  who  entered  the  church  just  as  the 
organ  stopped !  Nay,  he  could  not  have  been  a  Protes- 
tant, for  he  mechanically  crossed  himself  as  he  entered 
the  place,  saying  to  his  comrade,  "  Bedad,  Tim,  I  for- 
gawt!"  by  which  I  conclude  that  the  individual  came 
from  an  island  which  has  been  mentioned  at  the  com- 
mencement of  this  chapter.  Wherever  they  go,  a  rich 
fragrance  of  whisky  spreads  itself.  A  man  may  be  a 
heretic,  but  possess  genius:  these  Catholic  gentlemen 
have  come  to  pay  homage  to  Mr.  Sampson. 

Nay,  there  are  not  only  members  of  the  old  religion 
present,  but  disciples  of  a  creed  still  older.  Who  are 
those  two  individuals  with  hooked  noses  and  sallow 
countenances  who  worked  into  the  church,  in  spite  of 
some  little  opposition  on  the  part  of  the  beadle?  Seeing 
the  greasy  appearance  of  these  Hebrew  strangers,  Mr. 
Beadle  was  for  denying  them  admission.  But  one  whis- 
pered into  his  ear,  "  We  wants  to  be  conwerted, 
gov'nor!  "  another  slips  money  into  his  hand,— Mr.  Bea- 


•^. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  499 

die  lifts  up  the  mace  with  which  he  was  barring  the  door- 
way, and  the  Hebrew  gentlemen  enter.  There  goes  the 
organ !  the  doors  have  closed.  Shall  we  go  in,  and  listen 
to  JNIr.  Sampson's  sermon,  or  lie  on  the  grass  without? 

Preceded  by  that  beadle  in  gold  lace,  Sampson 
walked  up  to  the  pulpit,  as  rosy  and  jolly  a  man  as  you 
could  wish  to  see.  Presently,  when  he  surged  up  out  of 
his  plumj)  pulpit  cushion,  why  did  his  Reverence  turn 
as  pale  as  death  ?  He  looked  to  the  western  church-door 
— there,  on  each  side  of  it,  were  those  horrible  Hebrew 
Caryatides.  He  then  looked  to  the  vestry-door,  which 
was  hard  by  the  rector's  pew,  in  which  Sampson  had 
been  sitting  during  the  service,  alongside  of  their  lady- 
ships his  patronesses.  Suddenly  a  couple  of  perfumed 
Hibernian  gentlemen  slipped  out  of  an  adjacent  seat, 
and  placed  themselves  on  a  bench  close  by  that  vestry- 
door  and  rector's  pew,  and  so  sat  till  the  conclusion  of 
the  sermon,  with  eyes  meekly  cast  down  to  the  ground. 
How  can  we  describe  that  sermon,  if  the  preacher  him- 
self never  knew  how  it  came  to  an  end  ? 

Nevertheless,  it  was  considered  an  excellent  sermon. 
When  it  was  over,  the  fine  ladies  buzzed  into  one  an- 
other's ears  over  their  pews,  and  uttered  their  praise  and 
comments.  Madame  Walmoden,  who  was  in  the  next 
pew  to  our  friends,  said  it  was  bewdiful,  and  made  lier 
dremble  all  over.  Madame  Bernstein  said  it  was  ex- 
cellent. Lady  Maria  was  pleased  to  tliink  that  the 
family  chaplain  sliould  so  distinguish  himself.  She 
looked  up  at  him,  and  strove  to  catch  his  Reverence's 
eye,  as  he  still  sat  in  his  pulpit;  she  greeted  him  with  a 
little  wave  of  the  hand  and  flutter  of  her  liandkerchief. 
He  scarcely  seemed  to  note  the  com))linient;  his  face  was 
pale,  his  eyes  were  looking  yonder,  towards  the  font. 


500  THE  VIRGINIANS 

where  those  Hebrews  still  remained.  The  stream  of 
people  passed  by  them— in  a  rush,  when  they  were  lost 
to  sight,— in  a  throng— in  a  march  of  twos  and  threes— 
in  a  dribble  of  one  at  a  time.  Everybody  was  gone. 
The  two  Hebrews  were  still  there  by  the  door. 

The  Baroness  de  Bernstein  and  her  niece  still  lin- 
gered in  the  rector's  pew,  where  the  old  lady  was  deep 
in  conversation  with  that  gentleman. 

"  Who  are  those  horrible  men  at  the  door?  and  what 
a  smell  of  spirits  there  is,"  cries  Lady  Maria  to  Mrs. 
Brett,  her  aunt's  woman,  who  had  attended  the  two 
ladies. 

"  Farewell,  doctor;  you  have  a  darling  little  boy:  is 
he  to  be  a  clergyman,  too?  "  asks  Madame  de  Bernstein. 
"  Are  you  ready,  my  dear?  "  And  the  pew  is  thrown 
open,  and  Madame  Bernstein,  whose  father  was  only  a 
viscount,  insists  that  her  niece.  Lady  Maria,  who  was 
an  earl's  daughter,  should  go  first  out  of  the  pew. 

As  she  steps  forward,  those  individuals  whom  her 
ladyship  designated  as  two  horrible  men,  advance.  One 
of  them  pulls  a  long  strip  of  paper  out  of  his  pocket, 
and  her  ladyship  starts  and  tin*ns  pale.  She  makes  for 
the  vestry,  in  a  vague  hope  that  she  can  clear  the  door 
and  close  it  behind  her.  The  two  whiskyfied  gentlemen 
are  up  with  her,  however;  one  of  them  actually  lays  his 
hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  says:  — 

"  At  the  shuit  of  Misthress  Pincott  of  Kinsington, 
mercer,  I  have  the  honour  of  arresting  your  leedyship. 
Me  neem  is  Costigan,  Madam,  a  poor  gentleman  of 
Oireland,  binding  to  circumstances,  and  forced  to  fol- 
low a  disagrayable  profession.  Will  your  leedyship 
walk,  or  shall  me  man  go  fetch  a  cheer?  " 

For  reply  Lady  Maria  Esmond  gives  three  shrieks, 


A  Fainting  Fit 


THE  VIRGINIANS  501 

and  falls  swooning  to  the  ground.  "  Keep  the  door, 
JMick!  "  shouts  ]Mr.  Costigan.  "  Best  let  in  no  one  else, 
■^INIadam,"  he  saj^s,  very  politely,  to  Madame  de  Bern- 
stein. "  Her  ladyship  has  fallen  in  a  feenting  fit,  and 
will  recover  here,  at  her  aise." 

"  Unlace  her,  Brett!  "  cries  the  old  lady,  whose  eyes 
twinkle  oddly;  and,  as  soon  as  that  operation  is  per- 
formed, Madame  Bernstein  seizes  a  little  bag  suspended 
by  a  hair  chain,  which  Lady  Maria  wears  round  her 
neck,  and  snips  the  necklace  in  twain.  "  Dash  some  cold 
water  over  her  face,  it  always  recovers  her!"  says  the 
Baroness.  "  You  stay  with  her,  Brett.  How  much  is 
your  suit,  gentlemen? " 

Mr.  Costigan  says,  "  The  cleem  we  have  against  her 
leedyship  is  for  one  hundred  and  thirty-two  pounds,  in 
which  she  is  indebted  to  INIisthress  Eliza  Pincott." 

Meanwhile,  where  is  the  Reverend  Mr.  Sampson? 
Like  the  fabled  opossum  we  have  read  of,  who,  when  he 
spied  the  unerring  gunner  from  his  gum-tree,  said: 
"  It's  no  use,  major,  I  will  come  down,"  so  Sampson 
gave  himself  up  to  his  pursuers.  "  At  whose  suit, 
Simons?"  he  sadly  asked.  Sampson  knew  Simons: 
they  had  met  many  a  time  before. 

"  Buckleby  Cordwainer,"  says  Mr.  Simons. 

"  Forty-eight  pound  and  charges,  I  know,"  says 
Mr.  Sampson,  with  a  sigh.  "  I  haven't  got  the  money. 
What  officer  is  there  here?  "  Mr.  Simons's  companion, 
Mr.  Lyons,  here  stepped  forward,  and  said  his  house 
was  most  convenient,  and  often  used  by  gentlemen,  and 
he  should  be  most  liappy  and  proud  to  accommodate  his 
Reverence. 

Two  chairs  happened  to  be  in  waiting  outside  the 
chapel.     In  tliosc  two  chairs  my  I^ady  ISIaria  Esmond 


502  THE  VIRGINIANS 

and  Mr.  Sampson  placed  themselves,  and  went  to  Mr. 
Lyons's  residence,  escorted  by  the  gentlemen  to  whom 
we  have  just  been  introduced. 

Very  soon  after  the  capture  the  Baroness  Bernstein 
sent  Mr.  Case,  her  confidential  servant,  with  a  note  to 
her  niece,  full  of  exj)ressions  of  the  most  ardent  affec- 
tion: but  regretting  that  her  heavy  losses  at  cards  ren- 
dered the  payment  of  such  a  sum  as  that  in  which  Lady 
Maria  stood  indebted  quite  impossible.  She  had  written 
off  to  Mrs.  Pincott  hy  that  very  post,  however,  to  en- 
treat her  to  grant  time,  and  as  soon  as  ever  she  had  an 
answer,  would  not  fail  to  acquaint  her  dear  unliappy 
niece. 

Mrs.  Betty  came  over  to  console  her  mistress:  and  the 
two  poor  women  cast  about  for  money  enough  to  pro- 
vide a  horse  and  chaise  for  Mrs.  Betty,  who  had  very 
nearly  come  to  misfortune,  too.  Both  my  Lady  Maria 
and  her  maid  had  been  unlucky  at  cards,  and  could  not 
muster  more  than  eighteen  shillings  between  them:  so 
it  was  agreed  that  Betty  should  sell  a  gold  chain  belong- 
ing to  her  lady,  and  with  the  money  travel  to  London. 
Now  Betty  took  the  chain  to  the  very  toy-shop  man  who 
had  sold  it  to  Mr.  Warrington,  who  had  given  it  to  his 
cousin:  and  the  toy-shop  man,  supposing  that  she  had 
stolen  the  chain,  was  for  bringing  in  a  constable  to 
Betty.  Hence  she  had  to  make  explanations,  and  to 
say  how  her  mistress  was  in  durance ;  and,  ere  the  night 
closed,  all  Tunbridge  Wells  knew  that  my  Lady  Maria 
Esmond  was  in  the  hands  of  bailiffs.  Meanwhile,  how- 
ever, the  money  was  found,  and  Mrs.  Betty  whisked  up 
to  London  in  search  of  the  champion  in  whom  the  poor 
prisoner  confided. 

"Don't  say  anything  about  that  paper  being  gone! 


I 


THE  VIRGINIANS  503 

Oh,  the  wretch,  the  wretch!  She  shall  pay  it  me!"  I 
c:j)resume  that  Lady  JNIaria  meant  her  aunt  by  the  word 
"  wretch."  jNIr.  Sampson  read  a  sermon  to  her  lady- 
ship, and  they  passed  the  evening  over  revenge  and 
backgammon,  with  well-grounded  hopes  that  Harry 
Warrington  would  rush  to  their  rescue  as  soon  as  ever 
he  heard  of  their  mishap. 

Though,  ere  the  evening  was  over,  every  soul  at  the 
Wells  knew  what  had  happened  to  Lady  Maria,  and  a 
great  deal  more ;  though  they  knew  she  was  taken  in  exe- 
cution, the  house  where  she  lay,  the  amount — nay,  ten 
times  the  amount — for  which  she  was  captured,  and  that 
she  was  obliged  to  pawn  her  trinkets  to  get  a  little 
money  to  keep  her  in  jail;  though  everybody  said  that 
old  fiend  of  a  Bernstein  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  busi- 
ness, of  course  they  were  all  civil  and  bland  in  society; 
and,  at  my  Lady  Trumpington's  cards  that  night,  where 
Madame  Bernstein  appeared,  and  as  long  as  she  was 
within  hearing,  not  a  word  was  said  regarding  the 
morning's  transactions.  Lady  Yarmouth  asked  the 
Baroness  news  of  her  breddy  nephew,  and  heard  Mr. 
Warrington  was  in  London.  My  Lady  Maria  was  not 
coming  to  Lady  Trumpington's  that  evening?  My 
Lady  INIaria  was  indisposed,  had  fainted  at  church  that 
morning,  and  was  obliged  to  keep  her  room.  The  cards 
were  dealt,  the  fiddles  sang,  the  wine  went  round,  the 
gentlefolks  talked,  laughed,  yawned,  chattered,  the 
footmen  waylaid  the  supper,  the  chairmen  drank  and 
swore,  the  stars  climbed  the  sky,  just  as  though  no  Lady 
Maria  was  imprisoned,  and  no  poor  Sampson  arrested. 

Perhaps  Madame  de  Bernstein  stayed  at  the  assembly 
until  the  very  last,  not  willing  to  allow  the  company  the 
chance  of  speaking  of  her  as  soon  as  her  back  should  be 


504  THE  VIRGINIANS 

turned.  All,  what  a  comfort  it  is,  I  say  again,  that  we 
have  backs,  and  that  our  ears  don't  grow  on  them!  He 
that  has  ears  to  hear,  let  him  stuff  them  with  cotton. 
Madame  Bernstein  might  have  heard  folks  say  it  was 
heartless  of  her  to  come  abroad,  and  play  at  cards,  and 
make  merry  when  her  niece  was  in  trouble.  As  if  she 
could  help  Maria  by  staying  at  home,  indeed!  At  her 
age,  it  is  dangerous  to  disturb  an  old  lady's  tranquillity. 
"  Don't  tell  me!  "  says  Lady  Yarmouth.  "  The  Bern- 
stein would  play  at  carts  over  her  niece's  coffin.  Talk 
about  her  heart!  who  ever  said  she  had  one?  The  old 
spy  lost  it  to  the  Chevalier  a  tousand  years  ago,  and  has 
lived  ever  since  perfectly  well  without  one.  For  how 
much  is  the  Maria  put  in  prison?  If  it  were  only  a 
small  sum  we  would  pay  it,  it  would  vex  her  aunt  so. 
Find  out,  Fuchs,  in  the  morning,  for  how  much  Lady 
Maria  Esmond  is  put  in  prison."  And  the  faithful 
Fuchs  bowed,  and  promised  to  do  her  Excellency's 
will. 

Meanwhile,  about  midnight,  Madame  de  Bernstein 
went  home,  and  presently  fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  from 
which  she  did  not  wake  up  until  a  late  hour  of  the  morn- 
ing, when  she  summoned  her  usual  attendant,  who  arrived 
with  her  ladyship's  morning  dish  of  tea.  If  I  told  you 
she  took  a  dram  with  it,  you  would  be  shocked.  Some  of 
our  great-grandmothers  used  to  have  cordials  in  their 
"  closets."  Have  you  not  read  of  the  fine  lady  in  Wal- 
pole,  who  said,  "  If  I  drink  more,  I  shall  be  '  mucki- 
bus! '  "?  As  surely  as  Mr.  Gough  is  alive  now,  our  an- 
cestresses were  accustomed  to  partake  pretty  freely  of 
strong  waters. 

So,  having  tipped  off  the  cordial,  Madame  Bernstein 
rouses  and  asks  Mrs.  Brett  the  news. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  505 

"  He   can   give   it   you,"    says    the   waiting-woman, 
^^iilkily. 
'^^    "He?    Who?" 

Mrs.  Brett  names  Harry,  and  says  Mr.  Warrington 
arrived  about  midnight  yesterday— and  Betty,  my 
Lady  ^laria's  maid,  was  with  him.  "  And  my  Lady 
Maria  sends  your  ladyship  her  love  and  duty,  and  hopes 
you  slept  well,"  says  Brett. 

"  Excellently,  poor  thing!    Is  Betty  gone  to  her?  " 

"  No;  she  is  here,"  says  Mrs.  Brett. 

"  Let  me  see  her  directly,"  cries  the  old  lady. 

"  I'll  tell  her,"  replies  the  obsequious  Brett,  and  goes 
away  upon  her  mistress's  errand,  leaving  the  old  lady 
placidly  rej^osing  on  her  pillows.  Presently,  two  pairs 
of  high-heeled  shoes  are  heard  pattering  over  the  deal 
floor  of  the  bed-chamber.  Carpets  were  luxuries 
scarcely  known  in  bed-rooms  of  those  days. 

"  So,  Mrs.  Betty,  you  were  in  London  yesterday?  " 
calls  Bernstein  from  her  curtains. 

"  It  is  not  Betty— it  is  I!  Good  morning,  dear  aunt! 
I  hope  you  slept  well?"  cries  a  voice  which  made  old 
Bernstein  start  on  her  pillow.  It  was  the  voice  of  Lady 
Maria,  who  drew  the  curtains  aside,  and  dropped  her 
aunt  a  low  curtsey.  Lady  Maria  looked  very  pretty, 
rosy,  and  happy.  And  with  the  little  surprise  incident 
at  her  appearance  through  Madame  Bernstein's  cur- 
tains, I  think  we  may  bring  this  chapter  to  a  close. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 


HARRY   TO   THE   RESCUE 


Y  dear  Lord  March," 
(wrote  Mr.  Warring- 
ton from  Tunbridge 
Wells,  on  Saturday 
morning,  the  25th 
August,  1756):  "This 
is  to  inform  you  (with 
satisfaction)  that  I  have 
won  all  our  three  hetts. 
I  was  at  Bromley  two 
minutes  within  the 
hour;  my  new  horses 
kep  a-going  at  a  capital 
rate.  I  drove  them 
myself,  having  the 
postilion  by  me  to 
show  me  the  way, 
and  my  black  man  inside  with  Mrs.  Betty.  Hope  they 
found  the  drive  very  jjleasant.  We  were  not  stopped 
on  Blackheath,  though  two  fellows  on  horseback  rode  up 
to  us,  but  not  liking  the  looks  of  our  countenantses,  rode 
off  again;  and  we  got  into  Tunbridge  Wells  (where  I 
transacted  my  business)  at  forty-five  minutes  after 
eleven.     This  makes  me  quitts  with  your  lordship  after 

506 


THE  VIRGINIANS  507 

yesterday's  picquet,  which  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  give 
j^ou  your  revenge,  and  am 
^^  "  Your  most  obliged,  faithful  servant, 

"  H.  Esmond  Warrington." 

And  now,  perhaps,  the  reader  will  understand  by 
w^hat  means  Lady  Maria  Esmond  was  enabled  to  sur- 
prise her  dear  aunt  in  her  bed  on  Saturday  morning, 
and  walk  out  of  the  house  of  captivity.     Having  des- 
patched ^Irs.  Betty  to  London,  she  scarcely  expected 
that  her  emissary  would  return  on  the  day  of  her  depar- 
ture ;  and  she  and  the  Chaplain  were  playing  their  cards 
at  midnight,  after  a  small  refection  which  the  bailiff's 
wife  had  provided  for  them,  when  the  rapid  whirling 
of  wheels  was  heard  approaching  their  house,  and  caused 
the  lady  to  lay  her  trumps  down,  and  her  heart  to  beat 
"with  more  than  ordinary  emotion.     Whirr  came  the 
w^heels— the  carriage  stopped  at  the  very  door:    there 
was  a  parley  at  the  gate:    then  appeared  Mrs.  Betty, 
with  a  face  radiant  with  joj^  though  her  eyes  were  full 
of  tears;    and  next,  who  is  that  tall  young  gentleman 
who  enters?    Can  any  of  my  readers  guess?    Will  they 
be  very  angry  if  I  say  that  the  Chaplain  slapped  down 
his  cards  with  an  huzzay,  whilst  Lady  Maria,  turning 
as  white  as  a  sheet,  rose  up  from  her  chair,  tottered 
forward  a  step  or  two,  and,  with  an  hysterical  shriek, 
flung  herself  in  her  cousin's  arms?     How  many  kisses 
did  he  give  her?     If  they  were  mille,  deinde  centum, 
dein  mille  altera,  dein  secunda  centum,  and  so  on,  I  am 
not  going  to  cry  out.    He  had  come  to  rescue  her.     She 
knew  he  would;    lie  was  her  champion,  her  preserver 
from  bondage  and  ignominy.    She  wej)t  a  genuine  flood 
of  tears  upon  liis  shoulder,  and  as  she  reclines  there, 


508  THE  VIRGINIANS 

giving  way  to  a  hearty  emotion,  I  protest  I  think  she 
looks  handsomer  than  she  has  looked  during  the  whole 
course  of  this  history.  She  did  not  faint  this  time:  she 
went  home,  leaning  lovingly  on  her  cousin's  arm,  and 
may  have  had  one  or  two  hysterical  outbreaks  in  the 
night;  but  Madame  Bernstein  slept  soundly,  and  did 
not  hear  her. 

"  You  are  both  free  to  go  home,"  were  the  first  words 
Harry  said.  "  Get  my  lady's  hat  and  cardinal,  Betty, 
and.  Chaplain,  we'll  smoke  a  pipe  together  at  our  lodg- 
ings, it  will  refresh  me  after  my  ride."  The  Chaplain, 
who,  too,  had  a  great  deal  of  available  sensibility,  was 
very  much  overcome;  he  burst  into  tears  as  he  seized 
Harry's  hand,  and  kissed  it,  and  prayed  God  to  bless  his 
dear  generous  young  patron.  Mr.  Warrington  felt  a 
glow  of  pleasure  thrill  through  his  frame.  It  is  good 
to  be  able  to  help  the  suffering  and  the  poor ;  it  is  good 
to  be  able  to  turn  sorrow  into  joy.  Not  a  little  proud 
and  elated  was  our  young  champion,  as,  with  his  hat 
cocked,  he  marched  by  the  side  of  his  rescued  princess. 
His  feelings  came  out  to  meet  him,  as  it  were,  and  beau- 
tiful happinesses  with  kind  eyes  and  smiles  danced  be- 
fore him,  and  clad  him  in  a  robe  of  honour,  and  scattered 
flowers  on  his  path,  and  blew  trumpets  and  shawms  of 
sweet  gratulation,  calling,  "  Here  comes  the  conqueror! 
Make  way  for  the  champion!  "  And  so  they  led  him  up 
to  the  king's  house,  and  seated  him  in  the  hall  of  com- 
placency, upon  the  cushions  of  comfort,  ^nd  yet  it  was 
not  much  he  had  done.  Only  a  kindness.  He  had  but  to 
put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  with  an  easy  talisman 
drive  off  the  dragon  which  kept  the  gate,  and  cause  the 
tyrant  to  lay  down  his  axe,  who  had  got  Lady  Maria 
in  execution.     Never  mind  if  his  vanity  is  puffed  up; 


THE  VIRGINIANS  509 

he  is  very  good-natured;  he  has  rescued  two  unfortu- 
nate people,  and  pumped  tears  of  good-will  and  happi- 
"liess  out  of  their  eyes:  —  and  if  he  brags  a  little  to-night, 
and  swaggers  somewhat  to  the  Chaplain,  and  talks  about 
London  and  Lord  March,  and  White's,  and  Almack's, 
with  the  air  of  a  maccaroni,  I  don't  think  we  need  like 
him  much  the  less. 

Sampson  continued  to  be  prodigiously  affected.  This 
man  had  a  nature  most  easily  worked  upon,  and  extra- 
ordinarily quick  to  receive  pain  and  pleasure,  to  tears, 
gratitude,  laughter,  hatred,  liking.  In  his  preaching 
profession  he  had  educated  and  trained  his  sensibilities 
so  that  they  were  of  great  use  to  him;  he  was  for  the 
moment  what  he  acted.  He  wept  quite  genuine  tears, 
finding  that  he  could  produce  them  freely.  He  loved 
you  whilst  he  was  with  you ;  he  had  a  real  pang  of  grief 
as  he  mingled  his  sorrow  with  the  widow  or  orphan ;  and, 
meeting  Jack  as  he  came  out  of  the  door,  went  to  the 
tavern  opposite,  and  laughed  and  roared  over  the  bottle. 
He  gave  money  very  readily,  but  never  repaid  when  he 
borrowed.  He  was  on  this  night  in  a  rapture  of  grati- 
tude and  flattery  towards  Harry  Warrington.  In  all 
London,  perhaps,  the  unlucky  Fortunate  Youth  could 
not  have  found  a  more  dangerous  companion. 

To-night  Sampson  was  in  his  grateful  mood,  and  full 
of  enthusiasm  for  the  benefactor  who  had  released  him 
from  durance.  With  each  bumper  his  admiration  grew 
stronger.  He  exalted  Harry  as  the  best  and  noblest  of 
men,  and  the  com])lacent  young  simpleton,  as  we  have 
said,  was  disposed  to  take  these  praises  as  very  well  de- 
served. "  Tlie  younger  l)ranch  of  our  family,"  said 
Mr.  Harry  with  a  superb  air,  "have  treated  you  scur- 
vily;    l)ut,  l)y  Jove,   Sampson  my  boj^   I'll  stand  by 


510  THE  VIRGINIANS 

you ! "  At  a  certain  period  of  Burgundian  excitement 
Mr.  Warrington  was  always  veiy  eloquent  respecting 
the  splendour  of  his  family.  "  I  am  very  glad  I  was 
enabled  to  help  you  in  your  strait.  Count  on  me  when- 
ever you  want  me,  Sampson.  Did  you  not  say  you  had 
a  sister  at  boarding-school?  You  will  want  money  for 
her,  sir.  Here  is  a  little  bill  which  may  help  to  pay  her 
schooling."  And  the  liberal  young  fellow  passed  a 
bank-note  across  to  the  Chaplain. 

Again  the  man  was  affected  to  tears.  Harry's  gen- 
erosity smote  him. 

"  Mr.  Warrington,"  he  said,  putting  the  bank-note  a 
short  distance  from  him,  "  I — I  don't  deserve  your  kind- 
ness,— by  George,  I  don't!"  and  he  swore  an  oath  to 
corroborate  his  passionate  assertion. 

"  Psha!  "  says  Harry.  "  I  have  plenty  more  of  'em. 
There  was  no  money  in  that  confounded  pocket-book 
which  I  lost  last  week." 

"No,  sir.  There  was  no  money!"  says  Mr.  Samp- 
son, dropping  his  head. 

"Hallo!  How  do  you  know,  Mr.  Chaplain?"  asks 
the  young  gentleman. 

"  I  know  because  I  am  a  villain,  sir.  I  am  not  worthy 
of  your  kindness.  I  told  you  so.  I  found  the  book, 
sir,  that  night,  when  you  had  too  much  wine  at 
Barbeau's." 

"  And  read  the  letters? "  asked  Mr.  Warrington, 
starting  up  and  turning  very  red. 

"  They  told  me  nothing  I  did  not  know,  sir,"  said  the 
Chaplain.  "  You  have  had  spies  about  you  whom  you 
little  suspect — from  whom  you  are  much  too  young  and 
simple  to  be  able  to  keep  your  secret." 

"  Are    those    stories    about    Lady    Fanny,    and    my 


THE  VIRGINIANS  511 

Cousin  Will  and  his  doings,  true  then?"  inquired 
:-  Harry. 

*'  Yes,  they  are  true,"  sighed  the  Chaplain.  "  The 
house  of  Castlewood  has  not  been  fortunate,  sir,  since 
your  honour's  branch,  the  elder  branch,  left  it." 

"  Sir,  you  don't  dare  for  to  breathe  a  word  against 
my  Lady  Maria?  "  Harry  cried  out. 

"Oh,  not  for  worlds!"  says  Mr.  Sampson,  with  a 
queer  look  at  his  young  friend.  "  I  may  think  she  is 
too  old  for  your  honour,  and  that  'tis  a  pity  you  should 
not  have  a  wife  better  suited  to  your  age,  though  I 
admit  she  looks  very  young  for  hers,  and  hath  every 
virtue  and  accomplishment." 

"  She  is  too  old,  Sampson,  I  know  she  is,"  says  Mr. 
Warrington,  with  much  majesty;  "but  she  has  my 
word,  and  you  see,  sir,  how  fond  she  is  of  me.  Go  bring 
me  the  letters,  sir,  which  you  found,  and  let  me  try  and 
forgive  you  for  having  seized  upon  them." 

"  My  benefactor,  let  me  try  and  forgive  myself!  " 
cries  Mr.  Sampson,  and  departed  towards  his  chamber, 
leaving  his  young  patron  alone  over  his  wine. 

Sampson  returned  presently,  looking  very  pale. 
"  What  has  happened,  sir? "  says  Harry,  with  an  im- 
perious air. 

The  Chaplain  held  out  a  pocket-book.  "  With  your 
name  in  it,  sir,"  he  said. 

"  My  brother's  name  in  it,"  says  Harry ;  "  it  was 
George  who  gave  it  to  me." 

"  I  kept  it  in  a  locked  chest,  sir,  in  which  I  left  it  this 
morning  before  I  was  taken  by  those  people.  Here  is 
the  book,  sir,  but  the  letters  are  gone.  My  trunk  and 
valise  have  also  been  tampered  with.  And  I  am  a  miser- 
able, guilty  man,  unable  to  make  you  the  restitution 


512  THE  VIRGINIANS 

wliich  I  owe  you."  Sampson  looked  the  picture  of  woe 
as  he  uttered  these  sentiments.  He  clasped  his  hands 
together,  and  almost  knelt  hefore  Harry  in  an  attitude 
the  most  pathetic. 

Who  had  been  in  the  rooms  in  ]Mr.  Sampson's  and  Mr. 
Warrington's  absence?  The  landlady  was  ready  to  go 
on  her  knees,  and  declare  that  nobody  had  come  in :  nor, 
indeed,  was  JMr.  Warrington's  chamber  in  the  least  dis- 
turbed, nor  anything  abstracted  from  jMr.  Sampson's 
scanty  wardrobe  and  possessions,  except  those  papers 
of  which  he  deplored  the  absence. 

Whose  interest  was  it  to  seize  them?  Lady  JNIaria's? 
The  poor  woman  had  been  a  prisoner  all  day,  and  during 
the  time  when  the  capture  was  effected. 

She  certainly  was  guiltless  of  the  rape  of  the  letters. 
The  sudden  seizure  of  the  two — Case,  the  house-stew- 
ard's secret  journey  to  London, — Case,  who  knew  the 
shoemaker  at  whose  house  Sampson  lodged  in  London, 
and  all  the  secret  affairs  of  the  Esmond  family, — these 
points,  considered  together  and  separately,  might  make 
ISIr.  Sampson  think  that  the  Baroness  Bernstein  was  at 
the  bottom  of  this  mischief.  But  why  arrest  Lady 
]\Iaria?  The  Chaplain  knew  nothing  as  yet  about  that 
letter  which  her  ladyship  had  lost;  for  poor  Maria  had 
not  thought  it  necessary  to  confide  her  secret  to  him. 

As  for  the  pocket-book  and  its  contents,  Mr.  Harry 
was  so  swollen  up  with  self-satisfaction  that  evening,  at 
winning  his  three  bets,  at  rescuing  his  two  friends,  at 
the  capital  cold  supper  of  partridges  and  ancient  Bur- 
gundy which  obsequious  Monsieur  Barbeau  had  sent 
over  to  the  young  gentleman's  lodgings,  that  he  accepted 
Sampson's  vows  of  contrition,  and  solemn  promises  of 
future  fidelity,  and  reached  his  gracious  hand  to  the 


THE  VIRGINIANS  513 

Chaplain,  and  condoned  his  offence.  When  the  latter 
^wore  his  great  gods,  that  henceforth  he  would  be  Har- 
ry's  truest,  humblest  friend  and  follower,  and  at  any 
moment  would  be  ready  to  die  for  Mr.  Warrington, 
Harry  said,  majestically,  "  I  think,  Sampson,  you 
would;  I  hope  you  would.  My  family — the  Esmond 
family — has  always  been  accustomed  to  have  faithful 
friends  round  about  'em — and  to  reward  'em  too.  The 
wine's  with  you.  Chaplain.     What  toast  do  you  call, 

"  I  call  a  blessing  on  the  house  of  Esmond- Warring- 
ton !  "  cries  the  Chaplain,  with  real  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  We  are  the  elder  branch,  sir.  My  grandfather  was 
the  iNIarquis  of  Esmond,"  says  Mr.  Harry,  in  a  voice 
noble  but  somewhat  indistinct.  "  Here's  to  you.  Chap- 
lain— and  I  forgive  you,  sir — and  God  bless  you,  sir — 
and  if  you  had  been  took  for  three  times  as  much,  I'd 
have  paid  it.  Why,  what's  that  I  see  through  the  shut- 
ters? I  am  blest  if  the  sun  hasn't  risen  again !  We  have 
no  need  of  candles  to  go  to  bed,  ha,  ha!  "  And  once 
more  extending  his  blessing  to  his  chaplain,  the  young 
fellow  went  off  to  sleep. 

About  noon  INIadame  de  Bernstein  sent  over  a  ser- 
vant to  say  that  she  would  be  glad  if  her  nephew  would 
come  over  and  drink  a  dish  of  chocolate  with  her:  where- 
upon our  young  friend  rose  and  walked  to  his  aunt's 
lodgings.  She  remarked,  not  without  pleasure,  some 
alteration  in  his  toilette:  in  his  brief  sojourn  in  I^ondon 
he  had  visited  a  tailor  or  two,  and  liad  been  introduced 
by  my  Lord  March  to  some  of  his  lordsliip's  purveyors 
and  tradesmen. 

Aunt  Bernstein  called  him  "  my  dearest  child,"  and 
thanked  him  for  his  noble,  his  generous  behaviour  to 


514  THE  VIRGINIANS 

dear  Maria.  What  a  shock  that  seizure  in  church  had 
been  to  her !  A  still  greater  shock  that  she  had  lost  three 
hundred  only  on  the  Wednesday  night  to  Lady  Yar- 
mouth, and  was  quite  a  sec.  "  Why,"  said  the  Bar- 
oness, "  I  had  to  send  Case  to  London  to  my  agent  to 
get  money  to  pay — I  could  not  leave  Tunbridge  in  her 
debt. 

"  So  Case  did  go  to  London?  "  says  Mr.  Harry. 

"  Of  course  he  did :  the  Baroness  de  Bernstein  can't 
afford  to  say  she  wants  money.  Canst  thou  lend  me 
some,  child? " 

"  I  can  give  your  ladyship  twenty-two  pounds,"  said 
Harry,  blushing  very  red:  "  I  have  but  forty-four  left 
till  I  get  my  Virginian  remittances.  I  have  bought 
horses  and  clothes,  and  been  very  extravagant,  aunt." 

"  And  rescued  your  poor  relations  in  distress,  you 
prodigal  good  boy.  No,  child,  I  do  not  want  thy  money. 
I  can  give  thee  some.  Here  is  a  note  upon  my  agent 
for  fifty  pounds,  vaurien!  Go  and  spend  it,  and  be 
merry!  I  dare  say  thy  mother  will  repay  me,  though 
she  does  not  love  me."  And  she  looked  quite  affec- 
tionate, and  held  out  a  pretty  hand,  which  the  youth 
kissed. 

"  Your  mother  did  not  love  me,  but  your  mother's 
father  did  once.  Mind,  sir,  you  always  come  to  me  when 
you  have  need  of  me." 

When  bent  on  exhibiting  them  nothing  could  exceed 
Beatrix  Bernstein's  grace  or  good  humour.  "  I  can't 
help  loving  you,  child,"  she  continued,  "  and  yet  I  am 
so  angry  with  you  that  I  have  scarce  the  patience  to 
speak  to  you.  So  you  have  actually  engaged  yourself 
to  poor  Maria,  who  is  as  old  as  your  mother?  What 
will  Madam  Esmond  say?    She  may  live  three  hundred 


V. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  515 

years,  and  you  will  not  have  wherewithal  to  support 
:^  yourselves." 

"  I  have  ten  thousand  pounds  from  my  father,  of  my 
own,  now  my  poor  brother  is  gone,"  said  Harry,  "  that 
will  go  some  way." 

"  Why,  the  interest  will  not  keep  you  in  card-money." 

"  We  must  give  up  cards,"  says  Harry. 

"  It  is  more  than  Maria  is  capable  of.  She  will  pawn 
the  coat  off  your  back  to  play.  The  rage  for  it  runs 
in  all  my  brother's  family — in  me  too,  I  own  it.  I 
warned  you.  I  prayed  you  not  to  play  with  them,  and 
now  a  lad  of  twenty  to  engage  himself  to  a  woman  of 
forty -two! — to  write  letters  on  his  knees  and  signed  with 
his  heart's  blood  (which  he  spells  like  hartshorn),  and 
say  that  he  will  marry  no  other  woman  than  his  adorable 
cousin.  Lady  Maria  Esmond.     Oh!   it's  cruel — cruel!" 

"  Great  heavens!  Madam,  who  showed  you  my  let- 
ter? "  asked  Harry,  burning  with  a  blush  again. 

"  An  accident.  She  fainted  when  she  was  taken  by 
those  bailiffs.  Brett  cut  her  laces  for  her;  and  when  she 
was  carried  off,  poor  thing,  we  found  a  little  sachet  on 
the  floor,  which  I  opened,  not  knowing  in  the  least  what 
it  contained.  And  in  it,  was  Mr.  Harry  Warrington's 
precious  letter.    And  here,  sir,  is  the  case." 

A  pang  shot  through  Harry's  heart.  "  Great  heavens! 
why  didn't  she  destroy  it?  "  he  thought. 

"  I— I  will  give  it  back  to  Maria,"  he  said,  stretching 
out  his  hand  for  the  little  locket. 

"  My  dear,  I  have  bin-ned  the  foolish  letter,"  said  tlie 
old  lady.  "  If  you  clioose  to  betray  me  I  must  take  the 
consequence.  If  you  choose  to  write  anotlier,  I  cannot 
help  thee.  But,  in  tliat  case,  ITariy  Esmond,  I  had 
rather  never  see  thee  again.    Will  you  keep  my  secret? 


516  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Will  you  believe  an  old  woman  who  loves  you  and 
knows  the  world  better  than  you  do?  I  tell  you,  if  you 
keep  that  foolish  promise,  misery  and  ruin  are  surely 
in  store  for  you.  What  is  a  lad  like  you  in  the  hands 
of  a  wily  woman  of  the  world,  who  makes  a  toy  of  you? 
She  has  entrapped  you  into  a  promise,  and  your  old 
aunt  has  cut  the  strings  and  set  you  free.  Go  back 
again!    Betray  me  if  you  will,  Harry." 

"  I  am  not  angry  with  you,  aunt — I  wish  I  were,"  said 
Mr.  Warrington,  with  very  great  emotion.  "  I — I  shall 
not  repeat  what  you  told  me." 

"Maria  never  will,  child — mark  my  words!"  cried 
the  old  lady,  eagerly.  "  She  will  never  own  that  she  has 
lost  that  paper.    She  will  tell  you  that  she  has  it." 

"  But  I  am  sure  she — she  is  very  fond  of  me;  you 
should  have  seen  her  last  night,"  faltered  Harry. 

"  Must  I  tell  more  stories  against  my  own  flesh  and 
blood?"  sobs  out  the  Baroness.  "Child,  you  do  not 
know  her  past  life !  " 

"  And  I  must  not,  and  I  will  not!  "  cries  Harry,  start- 
ing up.  "  Written  or  said — it  does  not  matter  which! 
But  mj^  word  is  given ;  they  may  play  with  such  things 
in  England,  but  we  gentlemen  of  Virginia  don't  break 
'em.  If  she  holds  me  to  my  word,  she  shall  have  me.  If 
we  are  miserable,  as,  I  dare  say,  we  shall  be,  I'll  take 
a  firelock,  and  go  join  the  King  of  Prussia,  or  let  a  ball 
put  an  end  to  me." 

"  I— I  have  no  more  to  say.  Will  you  be  pleased  to 
ring  that  bell?  I— I  wish  you  a  good  morning,  Mr. 
Warrington."  And,  dropping  a  very  stately  curtsey, 
the  old  lady  rose  on  her  tortoiseshell  stick,  and  turned 
towards  the  door.  But,  as  she  made  her  first  step,  she 
put  her  hand  to  her  heart,  sank  on  the  sofa  again,  and 


THE  VIRGINIANS  517 

shed  the  first  tears  that  had  dropped  for  long  years 
;;^rom  Beatrix  Esmond's  eyes. 

Harry  was  greatly  moved,  too.  He  knelt  down  by 
her.  He  seized  her  cold  hand,  and  kissed  it.  He  told 
her,  in  his  artless  way,  how  very  keenly  he  had  felt  her 
love  for  him,  and  how,  with  all  his  heart,  he  returned  it. 
*'  All,  aunt!  "  said  he,  "  you  don't  know  what  a  villain  I 
feel  myself.  When  you  told  me,  just  now,  how  that 
paper  was  burned — oh!  I  was  ashamed  to  think  how 
glad  I  was."  He  bowed  his  comely  head  over  her  hand. 
She  felt  hot  drops  from  his  eyes  raining  on  it.  She  had 
loved  this  boy.  For  half  a  century  past — never,  per- 
haps, in  the  course  of  her  whole  worldly  life — had  she 
felt  a  sensation  so  tender  and  so  pure.  The  hard  heart 
was  wounded  now,  softened,  overcome.  She  put  her 
two  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  lightly  kissed  his  fore- 
head. 

"  You  will  not  tell  her  what  I  have  done,  child?  "  she 
said. 

He  declared  "Never!  never!"  And  demure  Mrs. 
Brett,  entering  at  her  mistress's  summons,  found  the 
nephew  and  avmt  in  this  sentimental  attitude. 


CHAPTER  XL 


IN  WHICH  HARRY  PAYS  OFF  AN  OLD  DEBT,  AND  INCURS 

SOME   NEW   ONES 

UR  Timbridge 

friends  were  now 
weary  of  the  Wells, 
and  eager  to  take 
their  departure. 

When  the  autumn 
should  arrive,  Bath 
was  Madame  de 
Bernstein's  mark. 
There  were  more 
cards,  company,  life, 
there.  She  would 
reach  it  after  pay- 
ing a  few  visits  to 
her  country  friends. 
Harry  promised, 
with  rather  a  bad  grace,  to  ride  with  Lady  Maria  and 
the  Chaplain  to  Castlewood.  Again  they  passed  by 
Oakhurst  village,  and  the  hospitable  house  where  Harry 
had  been  so  kindly  entertained.  Maria  made  so  many 
keen  remarks  about  the  young  ladies  of  Oakhurst,  and 
their  setting  their  caps  at  Harry,  and  the  mother's  evi- 
dent desire  to  catch  him  for  one  of  them,  that,  somewhat 
in  a  pet,  Mr.  Warrington  said  he  would  pass  his  friends' 
door,  as  her  ladyship  disliked  and  abused  them;    and 

518 


^3 


THE  VIRGINIANS  519 

was  very  haughty  and  sulky  that  evening  at  the  inn 
where  they  stopped,  some  few  miles  further  on  the  road. 
At  supper,  my  Lady  Maria's  smiles  brought  no  cor- 
responding good  humour  to  Harry's  face;  her  tears 
(which  her  ladyship  had  at  command)  did  not  seem  to 
create  the  least  sympathy  from  Mr.  Warrington;  to 
her  querulous  remarks  he  growled  a  surly  reply;  and 
my  lady  was  obliged  to  go  to  bed  at  length  without  get- 
ting a  single  tete-a-tete  with  her  cousin, — that  obstinate 
chaplain,  as  if  by  order,  persisting  in  staying  in  the 
room.  Had  Harry  given  Sampson  orders  to  remain? 
She  departed  with  a  sigh.  He  bowed  her  to  the  door 
with  an  obstinate  politeness,  and  consigned  her  to  the 
care  of  the  landlady  and  her  maid. 

What  horse  was  that  which  galloped  out  of  the  inn- 
yard  ten  minutes  after  Lady  Maria  had  gone  to  her 
chamber?  An  hour  after  her  departure  from  their  sup- 
per-room, Mrs.  Betty  came  in  for  her  lady's  bottle  of 
smelling-salts,  and  found  Parson  Sampson  smoking  a 
pipe  alone.  Mr.  Warrington  was  gone  to  bed — was 
gone  to  fetch  a  walk  in  the  moonlight — how  should  he 
know  where  Mr.  Harry  was,  Sampson  answered,  in 
reply  to  the  maid's  interrogatories.  Mr.  Warrington 
was  ready  to  set  forward  the  next  morning,  and  took  his 
place  by  the  side  of  T^ady  Maria's  carriage.  But  his 
brow  was  black — the  dark  s]:)irit  was  still  on  him.  He 
hardly  spoke  to  her  during  the  journey.  "  Great 
heavens!  she  must  liave  told  him  tliat  she  stole  it!" 
thought  Lady  Maria  within  her  own  mind. 

The  fact  is  that,  as  they  were  walking  up  that  steep 
hill  which  lies  about  three  miles  from  Oakhurst,  on  the 
Westerham  road,  Lady  Maria  Lsmond,  leaning  on  her 
fond  youth's  arm,  and  indeed  very  much  in  love  with 


520  THE  VIRGINIANS 

him,  had  warbled  into  his  ear  the  most  sentimental  vows, 
protests,  and  expressions  of  affection.  As  she  grew 
fonder,  he  grew  colder!  As  she  looked  up  in  his  face, 
the  sun  shone  down  upon  hers,  which,  fresh  and  well- 
preserved  as  it  was,  yet  showed  some  of  the  lines  and 
wrinkles  of  twoscore  j^ears;  and  poor  Harry,  with  that 
arm  leaning  on  his,  felt  it  intolerably  weighty,  and  by 
no  means  relished  his  walk  up  the  hill.  To  think  that  all 
his  life  that  drag  was  to  be  upon  him !  It  was  a  dreary 
look  forward;  and  he  cursed  the  moonlight  walk,  and 
the  hot  evening,  and  the  hot  wine  which  had  made  him 
give  that  silly  pledge  by  which  he  was  fatally  bound. 

Maria's  praises  and  raptures  annoyed  Harry  beyond 
measure.  The  poor  thing  poured  out  scraps  of  the  few 
plays  which  she  knew  that  had  reference  to  her  case, 
and  strove  with  her  utmost  power  to  charm  her  young 
companion.  She  called  him,  over  and  over  again,  her 
champion,  her  Enrico,  her  preserver,  and  vowed  that 
his  Molinda  would  be  ever,  ever  faithful  to  him.  She 
clung  to  him.  "Ah,  child!  have  I  not  thy  precious 
image,  thy  precious  hair,  thy  precious  writing  here?  " 
she  said,  looking  in  his  face.  "  Shall  it  not  go  with  me 
to  the  grave?  It  would,  sir,  were  I  to  meet  with  unkind- 
ness  from  my  Enrico!  "  she  sighed  out. 

Here  was  a  strange  story!  Madame  Bernstein  had 
given  him  the  little  silken  case — she  had  burned  the  hair 
and  the  note  which  the  case  contained,  and  Maria  had  it 
still  on  her  heart!  It  was  then,  at  the  start  which  Harry 
gave,  as  she  was  leaning  on  his  arm, — at  the  sud- 
den movement  as  if  he  would  drop  hers — that  Lady 
Maria  felt  her  first  pang  of  remorse  that  she  had  told 
a  fib,  or  rather,  that  she  was  found  out  in  telling  a  fib, 
which   is   a   far   more    cogent   reason   for   repentance. 


' 


THE  VIRGINIANS  521 

Heaven  help  us !  if  some  people  were  to  do  penance  for 
telling  lies,  would  they  ever  be  out  of  sackcloth  and 
■^■'ashes  ? 

Arrived  at  Castlewood,  JNIr.  Harry's  good  humour 
was  not  increased.  My  lord  was  from  home ;  the  ladies 
also  were  away;  the  only  member  of  the  family  whom 
Harry  found,  was  jVIr.  Will,  who  returned  from  par- 
tridge-shooting, just  as  the  chaise  and  cavalcade  reached 
the  gate,  and  who  tm'ned  very  pale  when  he  saw  his 
cousin,  and  received  a  sulky  scowl  of  recognition  from 
the  young  Virginian. 

Nevertheless,  he  thought  to  put  a  good  face  on  the 
matter,  and  they  met  at  supper,  where,  before  my  Lady 
Maria,  their  conversation  was  at  first  civil,  but  not  lively. 
]Mr.  Will  had  been  to  some  races?  to  several.  He  had 
been  pretty  successful  in  his  bets?  Mr.  Warrington 
hopes.  Pretty  well.  "  And  you  have  brought  back  my 
horse  sound?  "  asked  Mr.  Warrington. 

"Your  horse?    what  horse?"  asked  Mr.  Will. 

*'  What  horse?   my  horse!  "  says  Mr.  Hariy,  cm-tly. 

"  Protest  I  don't  understand  you,"  says  Will. 

"  The  brown  horse  for  which  I  played  you,  and  which 
I  won  of  j^ou  the  niglit  before  you  rode  away  upon  it," 
says  Mr.  Warrington,  sternly.  "  You  remember  the 
horse,  Mr.  Esmond." 

"  Mr.  Warrington,  I  perfectly  well  remember  play- 
ing you  for  a  horse,  wliicli  my  servant  handed  over  to 
you  on  the  day  of  your  departure." 

"  The  Chaplain  was  present  at  our  ])lay.  Mr.  Samp- 
son, will  you  be  umpire  between  us? "  Mr.  Warrington 
said,  with  much  gentleness. 

"  I  am  bound  to  decide  that  Mr.  Warrington  played 
for  the  brown  horse,"  says  Mr.  Sampson, 


522  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  Well,  he  got  the  other  one,"  said  sulky  Mr.  Will 
with  a  grin. 

"  And  sold  it  for  thirty  shillings!  "  said  Mr.  Warring- 
ton, always  preserving  his  calm  tone. 

Will  was  waggish.  "  Thirty  shillings?  and  a  devil- 
ish good  price,  too,  for  the  broken-kneed  old  rip.  Ha, 
ha!" 

"  Not  a  word  more.  'Tis  only  a  question  about  a  bet, 
my  dear  Lady  Maria.  Shall  I  serve  you  some  more 
chicken?  "  Nothing  could  be  more  studiously  courteous 
and  gay  than  Mr.  Warrington  was,  so  long  as  the  lady 
remained  in  the  room.  When  she  rose  to  go,  Harry  fol- 
lowed her  to  the  door,  and  closed  it  upon  her  with  the 
most  courtly  bow  of  farewell.  He  stood  at  the  closed 
door  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  bade  the  servants  re- 
tire. When  those  menials  were  gone,  Mr.  Warrington 
locked  the  heavy  door  before  them,  and  pocketed  the 
key. 

As  it  clicked  in  the  lock,  Mr.  Will,  who  had  been  sit- 
ting over  his  punch,  looking  now  and  then  askance  at  his 
cousin,  asked  with  one  of  the  oaths  which  commonly  gar- 
nished his  conversation,  "  What  the Mr.  Warring- 
ton meant  by  that?  " 

"  I  guess  there's  going  to  be  a  quarrel,"  said  Mr. 
Warrington,  blandly,  "  and  there  is  no  use  in  having 
these  fellows  look  on  at  rows  between  their  betters." 

"  Who  is  going  to  quarrel  here,  I  should  like  to 
know?  "  asked  Will,  looking  very  pale,  and  grasping  a 
knife. 

"  Mr.  Sampson,  you  were  present  when  I  played 
Mr.  Will  fifty  guineas  against  his  brown  horse?  " 

"  Against  his  horse!  "  bawls  out  Mr.  Will. 

"  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  you  take  me  for,"  says  Mr. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  523 

Warrington,  "although  I  do  come  from  Virginia!" 
;SAnd  he  repeated  his  question :  "  Mr.  Sampson,  you 
were  here  when  I  played  the  Honourable  William 
Esmond,  Esquire,  fifty  guineas  against  his  brown 
horse?" 

"  I  must  own  it,  sir,"  says  the  Chaplain,  with  a  dep- 
recatory look  towards  his  lord's  brother. 

"  I  don't  own  no  such  a  thing,"  says  Mr.  Will,  with 
rather  a  forced  laugh. 

"No,  sir:  because  it  costs  you  no  more  pains  to  lie 
than  to  cheat,"  said  Mr.  Warrington,  walking  up  to  his 
cousin.  "  Hands  off,  Mr.  Chaplain,  and  see  fair  play! 
Because  yon  are  no  better  than  a — ha! — " 

No  better  than  a  what  we  can't  say,  and  shall  never 
know,  for  as  Harry  uttered  the  exclamation,  his  dear 
cousin  flung  a  wine-bottle  at  Mr.  Warrington's  head, 
who  bobbed  just  in  time,  so  that  the  missile  flew  across 
the  room,  and  broke  against  the  wainscot  ojDposite, 
breaking  the  face  of  a  pictured  ancestor  of  the  Esmond 
family,  and  then  itself  against  the  wall,  whence  it 
spirted  a  pint  of  good  port-wine  over  the  Chaplain's 
face  and  flowered  wig.  "  Great  heavens,  gentlemen,  I 
pray  you  to  be  quiet!  "  cried  the  parson,  dripping  with 
gore. 

But  gentlemen  are  not  inclined  at  some  moments  to 
remember  the  commands  of  the  Church.  The  bottle 
having  failed,  Mr.  Esmond  seized  the  large  silver- 
handled  knife  and  drove  at  his  cousin.  But  Harry 
caught  up  the  other's  riglit  liand  with  his  left,  as  he  had 
seen  the  boxers  do  at  Maryl)one;  and  delivered  a  rapid 
blow  upon  Mr.  Esmond's  nose,  whicli  sent  him  reeling 
up  against  the  oak  panels,  and  I  dare  say  caused  him  to 
see  ten  thousand  illuminations.     He  dropped  his  knife 


524  THE  VIRGINIANS 

in  his  retreat  against  the  wall,  which  his  rapid  antagonist 
kicked  under  the  table. 

Now  Will,  too,  had  been  at  Marybone  and  Hockley- 
in-the-Hole,  and,  after  a  gasp  for  breath  and  a  glare 
over  his  bleeding  nose  at  his  enemy,  he  dashed  for- 
ward his  head  as  though  it  had  been  a  battering  ram,  in- 
tending to  project  it  into  Mr.  Henry  Warrington's 
stomach. 

This  manoeuvre  Harry  had  seen,  too,  on  his  visit  to 
Marybone,  and  amongst  the  negroes  upon  the  maternal 
estate,  who  would  meet  in  combat  like  two  concutient 
cannon-balls,  each  harder  than  the  other.  But  Harry 
had  seen  and  marked  the  civilized  practice  of  the  white 
man.  He  skipped  aside,  and,  saluting  his  advancing 
enemy  with  a  tremendous  blow  on  the  right  ear,  felled 
him,  so  that  he  struck  his  head  against  the  heavy  oak 
table  and  sank  lifeless  to  the  ground. 

"  Chaplain,  you  will  bear  witness  that  it  has  been  a 
fair  fight!"  said  Mr.  Warrington,  still  quivering  with 
the  excitement  of  the  combat,  but  striving  with  all  his 
might  to  restrain  himself  and  look  cool.  And  he  drew 
the  key  from  his  pocket  and  opened  the  door  in  the 
lobby,  behind  which  three  or  four  servants  were  gath- 
ered. A  crash  of  broken  glass,  a  cry,  a  shout,  an  oath 
or  two,  had  told  them  that  some  violent  scene  was  oc- 
curring within,  and  they  entered,  and  behold  two  vic- 
tims bedabbled  with  red— the  Chaplain  bleeding  port- 
wine,  and  the  Honourable  William  Esmond,  Esquire, 
stretched  in  his  own  gore. 

"  Mr.  Sampson  will  bear  witness  that  I  struck  fair, 
and  that  ^Ir.  Esmond  hit  the  first  blow,"  said  Mr.  War- 
rington. "  Undo  his  neck-cloth,  somebody— he  may  be 
dead;   and  get  a  fleam,  Gmiibo,  and  bleed  him.     Stop! 


THE  VIRGINIANS  525 

He  is  coming  to  himself!  Lift  him  up,  you,  and  tell  a 
^jnaid  to  wash  the  floor." 

Indeed,  in  a  minute  Mr.  Will  did  come  to  himself. 
First  his  eyes  rolled  about,  or  rather,  I  am  ashamed  to 
say,  his  eye,  one  having  been  closed  by  Mr.  Warring- 
ton's first  blow.  First,  then,  his  eye  rolled  about;  then 
he  gasped  and  uttered  an  inarticulate  moan  or  two,  then 
he  began  to  swear  and  curse  very  freely  and  articulately. 

"  He  is  getting  well,"  said  INIr.  Warrington. 

"  Oh,  praise  be  Mussy!  "  sighs  the  sentimental  Betty. 

"  Ask  him.  Gumbo,  whether  he  would  like  any  more?" 
said  IMr.  Warrington,  with  a  stern  humour. 

"  Massa  Harry  say.  Wool  you  like  any  maw?  "  asked 
obedient  Gumbo,  bowing  over  the  prostrate  gentleman. 

"No,  curse  you,  j^ou  black  devil!"  says  Mr.  Will, 
hitting  up  at  the  black  object  before  him.  ("  So  he 
nearly  cut  my  tongue  in  tu  in  my  mouf !  "  Gumbo  ex- 
plained to  the  pitying  Betty.)  "  No,  that  is,  yes!  You 
infernal  Mohock!  Why  does  not  somebody  kick  him 
out  of  the  place?  " 

"  Because  nobody  dares,  Mr.  Esmond,"  says  Mr. 
Warrington,  with  great  state,  arranging  his  ruffles — his 
ruffled  ruffles. 

"  And  nobody  won't  neither,"  growled  the  men. 
They  had  all  grown  to  love  Harry,  whereas  Mr.  Will 
had  nobody's  good  word.  "  We  know  all's  fair,  sir. 
It  ain't  the  first  time  Master  William  have  been 
served  so." 

"  And  I  hope  it  won't  be  the  last,"  cries  shrill  Betty. 
"  To  go  for  to  strike  a  poor  black  gentleman  so!  " 

Mr.  Will  had  gathered  himself  up  by  this  time,  had 
wiped  his  bleeding  face  with  a  napkin,  and  was  skulking 
off  to  bed. 


526  THE  VIRGINIANS 

*'  Surelj^  it's  manners  to  say  good-night  to  the  com- 
pany. Good-night,  Mr.  Esmond,"  says  Mr.  Warring- 
ton, whose  jokes,  though  few,  were  not  very  brilliant; 
but  the  honest  lad  relished  the  brilliant  sally,  and 
laughed  at  it  inwardly. 

"He's  'ad  his  zopper,  and  he  goos  to  baid!"  says 
Betty,  in  her  native  dialect,  at  which  everybody  laughed 
outright,  except  Mr.  William,  who  went  away  leaving 
a  black  fume  of  curses,  as  it  were,  rolling  out  of  that 
funnel,  his  mouth. 

It  must  be  owned  that  Mr.  Warrington  continued  to 
be  witty  the  next  morning.  He  sent  a  note  to  Mr.  Will 
begging  to  know  whether  he  was  for  a  ride  to  town  or 
anywJieres  else.  If  he  was  for  London,  that  he  would 
friten  the  highwaymen  on  Hounslow  Heath,  and  look 
a  very  genteel  figar  at  the  Chocolate  House.  Which 
letter,  I  fear,  Mr.  Will  received  with  his  usual  violence, 
requesting  the  writer  to  go  to  some  place— not  Houns- 
low. 

And  besides  the  parley  between  Will  and  Harry, 
there  comes  a  maiden  simpering  to  Mr.  Warrington's 
door,  and  Gumbo  advances,  holding  something  white 
and  triangular  in  his  ebon  fingers. 

Harry  knew  what  it  was  well  enough.  "  Of  course 
it's  a  letter,"  groans  he.  Molinda  greets  her  Enrico,  &c. 
&c.  &c.  No  sleep  has  she  known  that  night,  and  so 
forth,  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth.  Has  Enrico  slept 
well  in  the  halls  of  his  fathers?  und  so  weiter,  und  so 
weiter.  He  must  never,  never  quaril  and  be  so  cruel 
again.  Kai  ta  loipa.  And  I  protest  I  shan't  quote  any 
more  of  this  letter.  Ah,  tablets,  golden  once,— are  ye 
now  faded  leaves?  Where  is  the  juggler  who  trans- 
muted you,  and  why  is  the  glamour  over? 


THE  VIRGINIANS  527 

After  the  little  scandal  with  Cousin  Will,  Harry's 
^dignity  would  not  allow  him  to  stay  longer  at  Castle- 
wood:  he  wrote  a  majestic  letter  to  the  lord  of  the  man- 
sion, explaining  the  circumstances  which  had  occurred, 
and,  as  he  called  in  Parson  Sampson  to  supervise  the 
document,  no  doubt  it  contained  none  of  those  eccentrici- 
ties in  spelling  which  figured  in  his  ordinary  correspon- 
dence at  this  period.  He  represented  to  poor  Maria, 
that  after  blackening  the  eye  and  damaging  the  nose 
of  a  son  of  the  house,  he  should  remain  in  it  with  a  very 
bad  grace;  and  she  was  forced  to  acquiesce  in  the 
opinion  that,  for  the  present,  his  absence  would  best 
become  him.  Of  course,  she  wept  plentiful  tears  at 
parting  with  him.  He  would  go  to  London,  and  see 
younger  beauties:  he  would  find  none,  none  who  would 
love  him  like  his  fond  Maria.  I  fear  Mr.  Warrington 
did  not  exhibit  any  profound  emotion  on  leaving  her: 
nay,  he  cheered  up  immediately  after  he  crossed  Castle- 
wood  Bridge,  and  made  his  horses  whisk  over  the  road 
at  ten  miles  an  hour:  he  sang  to  them  to  go  along:  he 
nodded  to  the  pretty  girls  by  the  roadside:  he  chucked 
my  landlady  under  the  chin:  he  certainly  was  not  in- 
consolable. Truth  is,  he  longed  to  be  back  in  London 
again,  to  make  a  figure  at  St.  James's,  at  Newmarket, 
wherever  the  men  of  fashion  congregated.  All  that 
petty  Tunbridge  society  of  women  and  card-playing 
seemed  child's-play  to  him  now  he  had  tasted  the  deliglit 
of  London  life. 

By  the  time  he  reached  London  again,  almost  all  the 
four-and-forty  pounds  which  we  have  seen  that  he  pos- 
sessed at  Tunbridge  had  slipped  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
farther  supplies  were  necessary.  Regarding  these  he 
made  himself  presently  easy.    There  were  the  two  sums 


528  THE  VIRGINIANS 

of  5,000Z.  in  his  own  and  his  brother's  name,  of  which  he 
was  the  master.  He  would  take  up  a  httle  money,  and 
with  a  run  or  two  of  good  luck  at  play  he  could  easily 
replace  it.  Meantime  he  must  live  in  a  manner  becom- 
ing his  station,  and  it  must  be  explained  to  Madam 
Esmond  that  a  gentleman  of  his  rank  cannot  keep  fit- 
ting comjiany,  and  appear  as  becomes  him  in  society, 
upon  a  miserable  pittance  of  two  hundred  a  year. 

Mr.  Warrington  sojourned  at  the  "  Bedford  CofFee- 
House  "  as  before,  but  only  for  a  short  while.  He 
sought  out  proper  lodgings  at  the  Court  end  of  the 
town,  and  fixed  on  some  apartments  in  Bond  Street, 
where  he  and  Gmnbo  installed  themselves,  his  horses 
standing  at  a  neighbouring  livery-stable.  And  now 
tailors,  mercers,  and  shoemakers  were  put  in  requisition. 
Not  without  a  pang  of  remorse,  he  laid  aside  his  mourn- 
ing and  figured  in  a  laced  hat  and  waistcoat.  Gumbo 
was  always  dexterous  in  the  art  of  dressing  hair,  and 
with  a  little  powder  flung  into  his  fair  locks  Mr.  War- 
rington's head  was  as  modish  as  that  of  any  gentleman 
in  the  Mall.  He  figured  in  the  Ring  in  his  phaeton. 
Reports  of  his  great  wealth  had  long  since  preceded  him 
to  London,  and  not  a  little  curiosity  was  excited  about 
the  fortunate  Virginian. 

Until  our  young  friend  could  be  balloted  for  at  the 
proper  season,  my  Lord  INIarch  has  written  down  his 
name  for  the  club  at  "  White's  Chocolate  House,"  as  a 
distinguished  gentleman  from  America.  There  were  as 
yet  but  few  persons  of  fashion  in  London,  but  with  a 
pocketful  of  money  at  one-and-twenty,  a  young  fellow 
can  make  himself  happy  even  out  of  the  season;  and 
Mr.  Harry  was  determined  to  enjoy. 

He  ordered  Mr.  Draper,  then,  to  sell  five  hundred 


WJ. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  529 

pounds  of  his  stock.  What  would  his  poor  mother  have 
said  had  she  known  that  the  young  spendthrift  was 
abeady  beginning  to  dissipate  his  patrimony?  He 
dined  at  the  tavern,  he  supped  at  the  club,  where  Jack 
]\Iorris  introduced  him,  with  immense  eulogiums,  to 
such  gentlemen  as  were  in  town.  Life  and  youth  and 
pleasure  were  before  him,  the  wine  was  set  a-running, 
and  the  eager  lad  was  greedy  to  drink.  Do  you  see,  far 
away  in  the  west  yonder,  the  pious  widow  at  her  prayers 
for  her  son?  Behind  the  trees  at  Oakhurst  a  tender 
little  heart,  too,  is  beating  for  him,  perhaps:  When  the 
Prodigal  Son  was  away  carousing,  were  not  love  and 
forgiveness  still  on  the  watch  for  him? 

Amongst  the  inedited  letters  of  the  late  Lord  Orford, 
there  is  one  whicli  the  present  learned  editor,  Mr.  Peter 
Cunningham,  has  omitted  from  his  collection,  doubting 
possibly  the  authenticity  of  the  document.  Nay,  I  my- 
self have  only  seen  a  copy  of  it  in  the  Warrington 
papers  in  Madam  Esmond's  prim  handwriting,  and 
noted  "  Mr.  H.  Walpole's  account  of  my  son  Henry  at 
London,  and  of  Baroness  Tuslier, — wrote  to  Genl 
Conway/' 

"  Arlington  Street.     Friday  Night. 

"  I  have  come  away,  child,  for  a  day  or  two  from  my  devo- 
tions to  our  Lady  of  Strawberry.  Have  I  not  been  on  my  knees 
to  her  these  three  weeks,  and  aren't  the  poor  okl  joints  full  of 
rheumatism?  A  fit  took  me  that  I  would  pay  London  a  visit, 
that  I  would  f^o  to  Vauxhall  and  Ranelagh.  Quoi!  May  I  not 
have  my  rattle  as  well  as  other  elderly  babies?  Suppose,  after 
being  so  long  virtuous,  I  take  a  fancy  to  cakes  and  ale,  shall 
your  reverence  say  nay  to  me?  George  Selwyn  and  Tony 
Storcr  and  your  humble  servant  took  boat  at  Westminster  t'other 


530  THE  VIRGINIANS 

night.  Was  It  Tuesday? — no,  Tuesday  I  was  with  their  Graces 
of  Norfolk,  who  are  just  from  Tunbridge — it  was  Wednesday. 
How  should  I  know.?  Wasn't  I  dead  drunk  with  a  whole  pint 
of  lemonade  I  took  at  White's.'' 

"  The  Norfolk  folk  had  been  entertaining  me  on  Tuesday 
with  the  account  of  a  young  savage  Iroquois,  Choctaw,  or  Vir- 
ginian, who  has  lately  been  making  a  little  noise  in  our  quarter 
of  the  globe.  He  is  an  offshoot  of  that  disreputable  family  of 
Esmond-Castlewood,  of  whom  all  the  men  are  gamblers  and 
spendthrifts,  and  all  the  women — well,  I  shan't  say  the  word, 
lest  Lady  Ailsbury  should  be  looking  over  your  shoulder.  Both 
the  late  lords,  my  father  told  me,  were  in  my  pay,  and  the  last 
one,  a  beau  of  Queen  Anne's  reign,  from  a  viscount  advanced 
to  be  an  earl  through  the  merits  and  intercession  of  his  no- 
torious old  sister  Bernstein,  late  Tusher,  nee  Esmond —  a  great 
beauty,  too,  of  her  day,  a  favourite  of  the  old  Pretender.  She 
sold  his  secrets  to  my  papa,  who  paid  her  for  them ;  and  being 
nowise  particular  in  her  love  for  the  Stuarts,  came  over  to  the 
august  Hanoverian  house  at  present  reigning  over  us.  '  Will 
Horace  Walpole's  tongue  never  stop  scandal  .f' '  says  your  wife 
over  your  shoulder.  I  kiss  your  ladyship's  hand.  I  am  dumb. 
The  Bernstein  is  a  model  of  virtue.  She  had  no  good  reasons 
for  marrying  her  father's  chaplain.  Many  of  the  nobility  omit 
the  marriage  altogether.  She  wasn't  ashamed  of  being  Mrs. 
Tusher,  and  didn't  take  a  German  Baroncino  for  a  second  hus- 
band, whom  nobody  out  of  Hanover  ever  saw.  The  Yarmouth 
bears  no  malice.  Esther  and  Vashti  are  very  good  friends,  and 
have  been  cheating  each  other  at  Tunbridge  at  cards  all  the 
summer. 

"  '  And  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  Iroquois.?  '  says  your 
ladyship.  The  Iroquois  has  been  at  Tunbridge,  too — not  cheat- 
ing, perhaps,  but  winning  vastly.  They  say  he  has  bled  Lord 
March  of  thousands — Lord  March,  by  whom  so  much  blood 
hath  been  shed,  that  he  has  quarrelled  with  everybody,  fought 
with  everybody,  rode  over  everybody,  been  fallen  In  love  with 


THE  VIRGINIANS  531 

by  everybody's  wife  except  Mr.  Conway's,  and  7wt  excepting 
her  present  Majesty,  the  Countess  of  England,  Scotland,  France, 
~^"nd  Ireland,  Queen  of  Walmoden  and  Yarmouth,  whom  heaven 
preserve  to  us. 

"  You  know  an  offensive  little  creature  de  par  le  monde,  one 
Jack  Morris,  who  skips  in  and  out  of  all  the  houses  of  London. 
When  we  were  at  Vauxhall,  Mr.  Jack  gave  us  a  nod  under 
the  shoulder  of  a  pretty  young  fellow  enough,  on  whose  arm 
he  was  leaning,  and  who  appeared  hugely  delighted  with  the 
enchantments  of  the  garden.  Lord,  how  he  stared  at  the  fire- 
works !  Gods,  how  he  huzzayed  at  the  singing  of  a  horrible 
painted  wench  who  shrieked  the  ears  off  my  head !  A  two- 
penny string  of  glass  beads  and  a  strip  of  tawdry  cloth  are 
treasure  in  Iroquois-land,  and  our  savage  valued  them  accord- 
ingly. 

"  A  buzz  went  about  the  place  that  this  was  the  fortunate 
3^outh.  He  won  three  hundred  at  White's  last  night  very  gen- 
teelly from  Rockingham  and  my  precious  nephew,  and  here  he 
was  bellowing  and  huzzaying  over  the  music  so  as  to  do  you 
good  to  hear.  I  do  not  love  a  puppet-show,  but  I  love  to 
treat  children  to  one,  Miss  Conway !  I  present  your  ladyship 
my  compliments,  and  hope  we  shall  go  and  see  the  dolls  together. 

"  When  the  singing-woman  came  down  from  her  throne,  Jack 
Morris  must  introduce  my  Virginian  to  her.  I  saw  him  blush 
up  to  the  eyes,  and  make  her,  upon  my  word,  a  very  fine  bow, 
such  as  I  had  no  idea  was  practised  in  wigwams.  '  There  is  a 
certain  jenny  squaw  about  her,  and  that's  why  the  savage  likes 
her,'  George  said — a  joke  certainly  not  as  brilliant  as  a  fire- 
work. After  which  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  savage  and  the 
savagess  retired  together. 

"  Having  had  a  great  deal  too  much  to  eat  and  drink  three 
hours  before,  my  partners  must  have  chicken  and  rack-punch  at 
Vauxhall,  where  George  fell  asleep  straightway,  find  for  my 
sins  I  must  tell  Tony  Storer  what  I  knew  about  this  Virginian's 
amiable  family,  especially  some  of  the  Bernstein's  antecedents, 


532  THE  VIRGINIANS 

and  the  history  of  another  elderly  beauty  of  the  family,  a  cer- 
tain Lady  Maria,  who  was  au  mieux  with  the  late  Prince  of 
Wales.  What  did  I  say?  I  protest  not  half  of  what  I  knew, 
and  of  course  not  a  tenth  part  of  what  I  was  going  to  tell,  for 
who  should  start  out  upon  us  but  my  savage,  this  time  quite  red  in 
the  face;  and  in  his  war-paint.  The  wretch  had  been  drinking 
fire-water  in  the  next  box ! 

"  He  cocked  his  hat,  clapped  his  hand  to  his  sword,  asked 
which  of  the  gentlemen  was  it  that  was  maligning  his  family? 
so  that  I  was  obliged  to  entreat  him  not  to  make  such  a  noise,  lest 
he  should  wake  my  friend  Mr.  George  Selwyn.  And  I  added, 
'  I  assure  you,  sir,  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were  near  me,  and  I 
most  sincerely  apologise  for  giving  you  pain.' 

"  The  Huron  took  his  hand  off  his  tomahawk  at  this  pacific 
rejoinder,  made  a  bow  not  ungraciously,  said  he  could  not,  of 
course,  ask  more  than  an  apology  from  a  gentleman  of  my 
age  {Merci,  Monsieur!),  and,  hearing  the  name  of  Mr.  Selwyn, 
made  another  bow  to  George,  and  said  he  had  a  letter  to  him 
from  Lord  March,  which  he  had  had  the  ill-fortune  to  mislay. 
George  has  put  him  up  for  the  club,  it  appears,  in  conjunction 
with  March,  and  no  doubt  these  three  lambs  will  fleece  each  other. 
Meanwhile,  my  pacified  savage  sat  down  with  us,  and  buried 
the  hatchet  in  another  bowl  of  punch,  for  which  these  gentlemen 
must  call.  Heaven  help  us !  'Tis  eleven  o'clock,  and  here  comes 
Bedson  with  my  gruel !  H.  W." 

"  To  the  Hon^'^  H-  S.  Conway." 


•^ 


CHAPTER  XLI 


RAKE  S    PROGRESS 

^>EOPLE  were  still 
very  busy  in 
Harry  Warring- 
ton's time  (not 
that  our  young 
gentleman  took 
much  heed  of  the 
controversy)  in 
determining  the 
relative  literary 
merits  of  the  an- 
cients and  the 
moderns ;  and 
the  learned,  and 
the  world  with 
them,  indeed, 
pretty  generally 
pronounced  in 
favour  of  the 
former.  The  moderns  of  that  day  are  the  ancients  of 
ours,  and  we  speculate  upon  them  in  the  present  year  of 
grace,  as  our  grandchilfhrn,  a  Inmdred  years  hence, 
will  give  their  judgment  about  us.  As  for  your  book- 
learning,  O  res])ectable  ancestors  (though,  to  be  sure, 
you  have  the  mighty  Cii])l)on  witli  yf)u),  I  think  you 
will  own  that  you  are  beaten,  and  could  point  to  a  couple 

533 


534  THE  VIRGINIANS 

of  professors  at  Cambridge  and  Glasgow  who  know 
more  Greek  than  was  to  be  had  in  your  time  in  all  the 
universities  of  Europe,  including  that  of  Athens,  if 
such  an  one  existed.  As  for  science,  you  were  scarce 
more  advanced  than  those  heathen  to  whom  in  literature 
you  owned  yourselves  inferior.  And  in  public  and  pri- 
vate morality?  Which  is  the  better,  this  actual  year 
1858,  or  its  predecessor  a  century  back?  Gentlemen  of 
Mr.  Disraeli's  House  of  Commons!  has  every  one  of 
you  his  price,  as  in  Walpole's  or  Newcastle's  time,— 
or  (and  that  is  the  delicate  question)  have  you  almost 
all  of  you  had  it?  Ladies,  I  do  not  say  that  you  are  a 
society  of  Vestals— but  the  chronicle  of  a  hundred  years 
since  contains  such  an  amount  of  scandal,  that  you  may 
be  thankful  you  did  not  live  in  such  dangerous  times. 
No:  on  my  conscience  I  believe  that  men  and  women 
are  both  better;  not  only  that  the  Susannahs  are  more 
numerous,  but  that  the  Elders  are  not  nearly  so  wicked. 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  books  as  "  Clarissa,"  "  Tom 
Jones,"  "Roderick  Random;"  paintings  by  contem- 
porary artists,  of  the  men  and  women,  the  life  and  so- 
ciety, of  their  day?  Suppose  we  were  to  describe  the 
doings  of  such  a  person  as  Mr.  Lovelace,  or  my  Lady 
Bellaston,  or  that  wonderful  "  Lady  of  Quality  "  who 
lent  her  memoirs  to  the  author  of  "  Peregrine  Pickle." 
How  the  pure  and  outraged  Nineteenth  Century  would 
blush,  scream,  run  out  of  the  room,  call  away  the  young 
ladies,  and  order  Mr.  Mudie  never  to  send  one  of  that 
odious  author's  books  again!  You  are  fifty-eight  years 
old,  Madam,  and  it  may  be  that  you  are  too  squeamish, 
that  you  cry  out  before  you  are  hurt,  and  when  nobody 
had  any  intention  of  offending  your  ladyship.  Also,  it 
may  be  that  the  novelist's  art  is  injured  by  the  restraints 


THE  VIRGINIANS  535 

put  upon  him,  as  many  an  honest,  harmless  statue  at  St. 
J*eter's  and  the  Vatican  is  spoiled  by  the  tin  draperies  in 
which  ecclesiastical  old  women  have  swaddled  the  fair 
limbs  of  the  marble.  But  in  your  prudery  there  is 
reason.  So  there  is  in  the  state  censorship  of  the  Press. 
The  page  may  contain  matter  dangerous  to  honos  mores. 
Out  with  your  scissors,  censor,  and  clip  off  the  prurient 
paragraph !  We  have  nothing  for  it  but  to  submit.  So- 
ciety, the  despot,  has  given  his  imperial  decree.  We 
may  think  the  statue  had  been  seen  to  greater  advantage 
without  the  tin  drapery;  we  may  plead  that  the  moral 
were  better  might  we  recite  the  whole  fable.  Away  with 
him — not  a  word!  I  never  saw  the  pianofortes  in  the 
United  States  with  the  frilled  muslin  trousers  on  their 
legs;  but,  depend  on  it,  the  muslin  covered  some  of  the 
notes  as  well  as  the  mahogany,  muffled  the  music,  and 
stopped  the  player. 

To  what  does  this  prelude  introduce  us?  I  am  think- 
ing of  Harry  Warrington,  Esquire,  in  his  lodgings  in 
Bond  Street,  London,  and  of  the  life  which  he  and  many 
of  the  young  bucks  of  fashion  led  in  those  times,  and 
how  I  can  no  more  take  my  fair  young  reader  into  them, 
than  Lady  Squeams  can  take  her  daughter  to  Cremorne 
Gardens  on  an  ordinary  evening.  My  dear  Miss  Diana 
(Psha!  I  know  you  are  eight-and-thirty,  althougli  you 
are  so  wonderfully  shy,  and  want  to  make  us  believe  you 
have  just  left  off  school-room  dinners  and  a  pinafore), 
when  your  grandfather  was  a  young  man  about  town, 
and  a  member  of  one  of  the  Clubs  at  White's,  and  dined 
at  Pontac's  off  the  feasts  provided  by  Braund  and  TiC- 
beck,  and  rode  to  Newmarket  with  March  and  Rock- 
ingham, and  toasted  the  best  in  England  witli  Gilly 
Williams  and  George  Selwyn   (and  didn't  understand 


536  THE  VIRGINIANS 

George's  jokes,  of  which,  indeed,  the  flavour  has  very 
much  evaporated  since  the  botthng)  —the  old  gentleman         , 
led  a  life  of  which  your  noble  aunt  (author  of  "  Legends 
of  the  Squeams's:  or,  Fair  Fruits  ofl"  a  Family  Tree,") 
has  not  given  you  the  slightest  idea. 

It  was  before  your  grandmother  adopted  those  serious 
views  for  which  she  was  distinguished  during  her  last 
long  residence  at  Bath,  and  after  Colonel  Tibbalt  mar- 
ried Miss  Lye,  the  rich  soap-boiler's  heiress,  that  her 
ladyship's  wild  oats  were  sown.    When  she  was  young, 
she  was  as  giddy  as  the  rest  of  the  genteel  world.    At 
her  house  in  Hill  Street,  she  had  ten  card-tables  on 
Wednesdays  and  Sunday  evenings,  except  for  a  short 
time  when  Ranelagh  was  open  on   Sundays.     Every 
night  of  her  life  she  gambled  for  eight,  nine,  ten  hours. 
Everybody  else  in  society  did  the  like.     She  lost;    she 
won;   she  cheated;   she  pawned  her  jewels;   who  knows 
what  else  she  was  not  ready  to  pawn,  so  as  to  find  funds 
to  supply  her  fury  for  play?     What  was  that  after- 
supper  duel  at  the  "  Shakspeare's  Head  "  in  Covent 
Garden,  between  your  grandfather  and  Colonel  Tib- 
balt:  where  they  drew  swords  and  engaged  only  in  the 
presence  of  Sir  John  Screwby,  who  was  drunk  under 
the  table?    They  were  interrupted  by  Mr.  John  Field- 
ing's people,  and  your  grandfather  was  carried  home 
to  Hill  Street  wounded  in  a  chair.     I  tell  you  those 
gentlemen  in  powder  and  ruffles,  who  turned  out  the 
toes  of  their  buckled  pumps  so  delicately,  were  terrible 
fellows.     Swords  were  perpetually  being  drawn;    bot- 
tles after  bottles  were  drunk;   oaths  roared  unceasingly 
in   conversation;    tavern-drawers   and  watchmen  were 
pinked  and  maimed ;   chairmen  belaboured ;   citizens  in- 
sulted ^y  reeling  pleasure-hunters.     You  have  been  to 


THE  VIRGINIANS  537 

Cremorne  with  proper  "  vouchers  "  of  course?  Do  you 
Cr^emember  our  great  theatres  thirty  years  ago?  You 
were  too  good  to  go  to  a  play.  Well,  you  have  no  idea 
what  the  playhouses  were,  or  what  the  green  boxes  were, 
when  Garrick  and  Mrs.  Pritchard  were  playing  before 
them!  And  I,  for  my  children's  sake,  thank  that  good 
Actor  in  his  retirement  who  was  the  first  to  banish  that 
shame  from  the  theatre.  No,  Madam,  you  are  mistaken ; 
I  do  7iot  plume  myself  on  mj^  superior  virtue.  I  do  not 
say  you  are  naturally  better  than  your  ancestress  in  her 
wild,  rouged,  gambling,  flaring  tearing  days;  or  even 
than  poor  Polly  Fogle,  who  is  just  taken  up  for  shop- 
lifting, and  would  have  been  hung  for  it  a  hundred  years 
ago.  Only,  I  am  heartily  thankful  that  my  temptations 
are  less,  having  quite  enough  to  do  with  those  of  the 
present  century. 

So,  if  Harry  Warrington  rides  down  to  Newmarket 
to  the  October  meeting,  and  loses  or  wins  his  money 
there;  if  he  makes  one  of  a  party  at  the  "  Shakspeare  " 
or  the  "  Bedford  Head;  "  if  he  dines  at  White's  ordi- 
nary, and  sits  down  to  macco  and  lansquenet  afterwards ; 
if  he  boxes  the  watch,  and  makes  his  apj^earance  at  the 
Roundhouse;  if  he  turns  out  for  a  short  space  a  wild, 
dissipated,  harum-scarum  young  Harry  Warrington; 
I,  knowing  the  weakness  of  human  nature,  am  not  going 
to  be  surprised;  and,  quite  aware  of  my  own  shortcom- 
ings, don't  intend  to  be  veiy  savage  at  my  neiglibour's. 
Mr.  Sampson  was:  in  his  cliapel  in  Long  Acre  he 
whipped  Vice  tremendously;  gave  Sin  no  quarter;  out- 
cursed  Blasphemy  with  superior  anatliemas;  knocked 
Drunkenness  down,  and  trani])led  on  the  ])rostrate  ])rute 
wallowing  in  the  gutter;  dragged  out  conjugal  Infidel- 
ity, and  pounded  her  witli  endless  stones  of  rhetoric — 


538  THE  VIRGINIANS 

and,  after  service,  came  to  dinner  at  the  "  Star  and 
Garter,"  made  a  bowl  of  punch  for  Harry  and  his 
friends  at  the  "  Bedford  Head,"  or  took  a  hand  at  whist 
at  Mr.  Warrington's  lodgings,  or  my  Lord  March's,  or 
wherever  there  was  a  supper  and  good  company  for  him. 

I  often  think,  however,  in  respect  of  Mr.  Warring- 
ton's doings  at  this  period  of  his  coming  to  London, 
that  I  may  have  taken  my  usual  degrading  and  unchari- 
table views  of  him — for  you  see,  I  have  not  uttered  a 
single  word  of  virtuous  indignation  against  his  conduct, 
and  if  it  was  not  reprehensible,  have  certainly  judged 
him  most  cruelly.  O  the  Truthful,  O  the  Beautiful,  O 
Modesty,  O  Benevolence,  O  Pudor,  O  Mores,  O  Blush- 
ing Shame,  O  Namby  Pamby — each  with  your  respec- 
tive capital  letters  to  your  honoured  names !  O  Niminy, 
O  Piminj^!  how  shall  I  dare  for  to  go  for  to  say  that  a 
young  man  ever  was  a  young  man? 

No  doubt,  dear  young  lady,  I  am  calumniating  Mr. 
Warrington,  according  to  my  heartless  custom.  As  a 
proof,  here  is  a  letter  out  of  the  Warrington  collection, 
from  Harry  to  his  mother,  in  which  there  is  not  a  single 
word  that  would  lead  you  to  suppose  he  was  leading  a 
wild  life.  And  such  a  letter  from  an  only  son,  to  a  fond 
and  exemplary  parent,  we  know  must  be  true! — 

"  Bond  Street,  London,  October  25,  1756. 

"  HoNORD  Madam. — I  take  up  my  pen  to  acknowledge  your 
honored  favor  of  10  July,  per  '  Lively  Virginia '  packet,  which 
has  duly  come  to  hand,  forwarded  by  our  Bristol  agent,  and 
rejoice  to  hear  that  the  prospect  of  the  crops  is  so  good. 
'Tis  Tully  who  says  that  agriculture  is  the  noblest  pursuit; 
how  delightful  when  that  pursuit  is  also  prophetable! 

"  Since  my  last,  dated   from  Tunbridge  Wells,  one  or  two 


THE  VIRGINIANS  539 

in^adcnce  have  occurred  of  which  it  is  nessasery^  I  should 
advise  my  honored  Mother.  Our  party  there  broke  up  end  of 
'August:  the  partridge-shooting  commencing.  Baroness  Bern- 
stein, whose  kindness  to  me  has  been  most  invariable,  has  been  to 
Bath,  her  usual  winter  resort,  and  has  made  me  a  welcome 
present  of  a  fifty-pound  bill.  I  rode  back  with  Rev.  Mr.  Samp- 
son, whose  instruction  I  find  most  valluhle,  and  my  cousin  Lady 
Maria,  to  Castlewood.^  I  paid  a  flying  visit  on  the  way  to  my 
dear  kind  friends  Col.  and  Mrs.  Lambert,  Oakhurst  House,  who 
send  my  honored  mother  their  most  affectionate  remembrances. 
The  youngest  Miss  Lambert,  I  grieve  to  say,  was  dellicate; 
and  her  parents  in  some  anxiety. 

"  At  Castlewood  I  lament  to  state  my  stay  was  short,  owing 
to  a  quarrel  with  my  cousin  William.  He  is  a  young  man  of 
violent  passions,  and  alas !  addicted  to  liquor,  when  he  has  no  con- 
troul  over  them.  In  a  trifling  dispute  about  a  horse,  high  words 
arose  between  us,  and  he  aymed  a  blow  at  me,  or  its  cquivulcnt 
— which  my  Grandfathers  my  honored  mothers  child  could  not 
brook.  I  rejoyned,  and  feld  him  to  the  ground,  whents  he  was 
carried  almost  sencelis  to  bed.  I  sent  to  enquire  after  his  health 
in  the  morning:  but  having  no  further  news  of  him,  came  away 
to  London,  where  I  have  been  ever  since  with  brief  intavles  of 
absence. 

"  Knowing  you  would  wish  me  to  see  my  dear  Grandfathers 
University  of  Cambridge,  I  rode  thither  lately  in  company  with 
some  friends,  passing  through  part  of  Harts,  and  lying  at  the 
famous  bed  of  Ware.  The  October  meeting  was  just  begun 
at  Cambridge  when  I  went.  I  saw  the  students  in  their  gownds 
and  capps,  and  rode  over  to  the  famous  Newmarket  Heath, 
where  there  happened  to  be  some  races — my  friend  I>ord  Marchs 
horse  Marrowbones  by  Cleaver  coming  off  winner  of  a  large 
steak.  It  was  an  amusing  day — the  jockeys,  horses,  &c.,  very 
different  to  our  poor  races  at  home — the  betting  awful — the 

^  This  word  has  been  much  operated  upon  with  the  penknife,  but  is  left  sic, 
no  doubt  to  the  writer's  satisfaction. 

2  Could  Parson  Sampson  have  been  dictating  the  above  remarks  to  Mr.  "War- 
rington? 


540  THE  VIRGINIANS 

richest  noblemen  here  mix  with  the  jox,  and  bctt  all  round. 
Cambridge  pleased  me:  especially  King's  College  Chapel,  of  a 
rich  but  elegant  Gothick. 

"  I  have  been  out  into  the  world,  and  am  made  member  of 
the  Club  at  White's,  where  I  meet  gentlemen  of  the  first  fashion. 
My  Lords  Rockingham,  Carlisle,  Orford,  Bolingbroke,  Coven- 
try are  of  my  friends,  introduced  to  me  by  my  Lord  March,  of 
whom  I  have  often  wrote  before.  Lady  Coventry  is  a  fine 
woman,  but  tlmm.  Every  ladi/  pamts  here,  old  and  young;  so, 
if  you  and  Mountain  and  Fanny  wish  to  be  in  fashion,  I  must 
send  you  out  some  rooge-pots:  everybody  plays— eight,  ten, 
card-tables  at  every  house  on  every  receiving  night.  I  am  sorry 
to  say  all  do  not  play  fair,  and  some  do  not  pay  fair.  I  have 
been  obliged  to  sit  down,  and  do  as  Rome  does,  and  have  ac- 
tually seen  ladies  whom  I  could  name  take  my  counters  from 
before  my  face. 

"  One  day,  his  regiment  the  20th,  being  paraded  in  St.  James's 
Park,  a  friend  of  mine,  Mr.  Wolfe,  did  me  the  honour  to  pre- 
sent me  to  his  Royal  Highness  the  Captain-General,  who  was 
most  gracious:  a  fat,  jolly  Prince,  if  I  may  speak  so  without 
disrespect,  reminding  me  in  his  manner  of  that  unhappy  Gen- 
eral Braddock,  whom  we  knew  to  our  sorrow  last  year.  When 
he  heard  my  name,  and  how  dearest  George  had  served  and 
fallen  in  Braddock's  unfortunate  campaign,  he  talked  a  great 
deal  with  me ;  asked  why  a  young  fellow  like  me  did  not  serve 
too ;  why  I  did  not  go  to  the  King  of  Prussia,  who  was  a  great 
General,  and  see  a  campaign  or  two ;  and  whether  that  would  not 
be  better  than  dawdling  about  at  routs  and  card-parties  in 
London?  I  said,  I  would  like  to  go  with  all  my  heart,  but 
was  an  only  son  now,  on  leave  from  my  mother,  and  belonged 
to  our  estate  in  Virginia.  His  Royal  Highness  said,  Mr.  Brad- 
dock  had  wrote  home  accounts  of  Mrs.  Esmond's  loyalty,  and 
that  he  would  gladly  serve  me.  Mr.  Wolfe  and  I  have  waited 
on  him  since,  at  his  Royal  Highness's  house  in  Pall  Mall.  The 
latter,  who  is  still  quite  a  young  man,  made  the  Scots  campaign 
with  his  Highness,  whom  Mr.  Dempster  loves  so  much  at  home. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  541 

To  be  sure,  he  was  too  severe:  if  anything  can  be  too  severe 
ainst  rebels  in  arms. 

"  Mr.  Draper  has  had  half  the  Stock,  my  late  Papa's  prop- 
erty, transferred  to  my  name.  Until  there  can  be  no  doubt  of 
that  painful  loss  in  our  family  which  I  would  give  my  right 
hand  to  replace,  the  remaining  stock  must  remain  in  the  trus- 
tees' name  in  behalf  of  him  who  inherited  it.  Ah,  dear  mother ! 
There  is  no  day,  scarce  any  hour,  when  I  don't  think  of  him. 
I  wish  he  were  by  me  often.  I  feel  like  as  if  I  was  better  when 
I  am  thinking  of  him,  and  would  like,  for  the  honour  of  my 
family,  that  he  was  representing  of  it  here  instead  of, 

"  Honored  Madam, 
"  Your  dutiful  and  affectionate  Son, 

"  Henry  Esmond  Warrington. 

"  P.  S.  —  I  am  like  your  sex,  who  always,  they  say,  put  their 
chief  news  in  a  poscrip.  I  had  something  to  tell  you  about  a 
person  to  whom  my  heart  is  engaged.  I  shall  write  more  about 
it,  which  there  is  no  hurry.  Safice  she  is  a  nobleman's  daughter, 
and  her  family  as  good  as  our  own." 

"  Clargis  Street,  London,  October  23,  1756. 
"  I  think,  my  good  sister,  we  have  been  all  our  lives  a  little  more 
than  kin  and  less  than  kind,  to  use  the  words  of  a  poet  whom 
your  dear  father  loved  dearly.  When  you  were  born  in  our 
Western  Principallitie,  my  mother  was  not  as  old  as  Isaac's; 
but  even  then  I  was  much  more  than  old  enough  to  bo  yours. 
And  though  she  gave  you  all  she  could  leave  or  give,  including 
the  little  portion  of  love  that  ought  to  have  been  my  share, 
yet,  if  we  can  have  good  will  for  one  another,  we  may  learn 
to  do  without  affection :  and  some  little  kindness  you  owe  me,  for 
your  son's  sake  as  well  us  your  father's,  whom  I  loved  and 
admixed  more  than  any  man  I  think  ever  I  knew  in  this  world ; 
he  was  greater  than  almost  all,  though  he  made  no  noysc  in  it. 
I  have  seen  very  many  who  have,  and,  believe  me,  have  found 
but  few  with  such  good  heads  and  good  harts  as  Mr.  Esmond. 


542  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  Had  we  been  better  acquainted,  I  might  have  given  you  some 
advice  regarding  your  young  gentleman's  introduction  to  Eu- 
rope, which  you  would  have  taken  or  not,  as  people  do  in  this 
world.  At  least  you  would  have  sed  afterwards,  '  What  she 
counselled  me  was  right,  and  had  Harry  done  as  Madam  Beatrix 
wisht,  it  had  been  better  for  him.'  My  good  sister,  it  was  not 
for  you  to  know,  or  for  me  to  whom  you  never  wrote  to  tell 
you,  but  your  boy  in  coming  to  England  and  Castlewood  found 
but  ill  friends  there;  except  one,  an  old  aunt,  of  whom  all  kind 
of  evil  hath  been  spoken  and  sed  these  fifty  years  past — and  not 
without  cawse  too,  perhaps. 

"  Now,  I  must  tell  Harry's  mother  what  will  doubtless  scarce 
astonish  her,  that  almost  everybody  who  knows  him  loves  him. 
He  is  prudent  of  his  tongue,  generous  of  his  money,  as  bold  as  a 
lyon,  with  an  imperious  domineering  way  that  sets  well  upon  him ; 
you  know  whether  he  is  handsome  or  not:  my  dear,  I  like  him 
none  the  less  for  not  being  over  witty  or  wise,  and  never  cared 
for  your  sett-the-Thames-ahre  gentlemen,  who  are  so  much  more 
clever  than  their  neighbours.  Your  father's  great  friend,  Mr. 
Addison,  seemed  to  me  but  a  supercilious  prig,  and  his  follower, 
Sir  Dick  Steele,  was  not  pleasant  in  his  cupps,  nor  out  of  'em. 
And  (revenons  a  luy)  your  Master  Harry  will  certainly  not 
burn  the  river  up  with  his  wits.  Of  book-learning  he  is  as  ignor- 
ant as  any  lord  in  England,  and  for  this  I  hold  him  none  the 
worse.  li  heaven  have  not  given  him  a  turn  that  way,  'tis  of 
no  use  trying  to  bend  him. 

"  Considering  the  place  he  is  to  hold  in  his  own  colony  when 
he  returns,  and  the  stock  he  comes  from,  let  me  tell  you,  that  he 
hath  not  means  enough  allowed  him  to  support  his  station,  and 
is  likely  to  make  the  more  depence  from  the  narrowness  of  his 
income — from  sheer  despair  breaking  out  of  all  bounds,  and  be- 
coming extravagant,  which  is  not  his  turn.  But  he  likes  to  live 
as  well  as  the  rest  of  his  company,  and,  between  ourselves,  has 
fell  into  some  of  the  finist  and  most  rakish  in  England.  He 
thinks  'tis  for  the  honour  of  the  family  not  to  go  back,  and 
many  a  time  calls  for  ortolans  and  champaign  when  he  would 


THE  VIRGINIANS  543 

as  leaf  dine  with  a  stake  and  a  mugg  of  beer.  And  in  this  kind 
of  spirit  I  have  no  doubt  from  what  he  hath  told  me  in  his  talk 
*^which  is  very  naif,  as  the  French  say),  that  his  mamma  hatli 
encouraged  him  in  his  high  opinion  of  himself.  We  women  like 
our  belongings  to  have  it,  however  little  we  love  to  pay  the  cost. 
Will  you  have  your  ladd  make  a  figar  in  London?  Trebble  his 
allowance  at  the  very  least,  and  liis  Aunt  Bernstein  (with  his 
honored  mamma's  permission)  will  add  a  little  more  on  to  what- 
ever summ  you  give  him.  Otherwise  he  will  be  spending  the  little 
capital  I  learn  he  has  in  this  country,  wliich,  when  a  ladd  once 
begins  to  manger,  there  is  very  soon  an  end  to  the  loaf.  Please 
God,  I  shall  be  able  to  leave  Henry  Esmond's  grandson  some- 
thing at  my  death ;  but  m}^  savings  are  small,  and  the  pension 
with  which  my  gracious  Sovereign  hath  endowed  me  dies  with 
me.  As  for  feu  M.  do  Bernstein,  he  left  only  debt  at  his 
decease:  the  officers  of  his  Majesty's  Electoral  Court  of  Han- 
nover are  but  scantily  paid. 

"  A  lady  who  is  at  present  very  high  in  his  Majesty's  con- 
fidence hath  taken  a  great  phancy  to  your  ladd,  and  will  take 
an  early  occasion  to  bring  him  to  the  Sovereign's  favourable 
notice.  His  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  he  hath  seen.  If  live  in 
America  he  must,  why  should  not  Mr.  Esmond  Warrington 
return  as  Governor  of  Virginia,  and  with  a  title  to  his  name.'* 
That  is  what  I  hope  for  him. 

"  Meanwhile,  I  must  be  candid  with  you,  and  tell  you  I  fear 
he  hath  entangled  himself  here  in  a  very  silly  engagement.  Even 
to  marry  an  old  woman  for  money  is  scarce  pardonable — the 
game  ne  "volant  gueres  la  chandelle — Mr.  Bernstein,  when  alive, 
more  than  once  assured  me  of  this  fact,  and  I  believe  him,  poor 
gentleman !  But  to  engage  yourself  to  an  old  woman  without 
money,  and  to  marry  her  merely  because  you  have  promised  her, 
this  seems  to  me  a  follic  which  only  very  young  ladds  fall  into, 
and  I  fear  Mr.  Warrington  is  one.  How,  or  for  what  consider- 
ation, I  know  not,  but  my  niece  Maria  Ksmond  hath  escamote 
a  promise  from  Harry.  He  knows  nothing  of  her  antecedens, 
which  I  do.     She  hath  laid  herself  out  for  twenty  husbands  these 


544  THE  VIRGINIANS 

twenty  years  past.  I  care  not  how  she  hath  got  the  promise 
from  him.  'Tis  a  sinn  and  a  shame  that  a  woman  more  than 
forty  years  old  should  surprize  the  honour  of  a  child  like  that, 
and  hold  him  to  his  word.  She  is  not  the  woman  she  pretends 
to  be.  A  horse-jockey  (he  saith)  cannot  take  him  in — but  a 
woman ! 

"  I  write  this  news  to  you  advisedly,  displeasant  as  it  must  be. 
Perhaps  'twill  bring  you  to  England :  but  I  would  be  very 
cautious,  above  all,  very  gentle,  for  the  bitt  will  instantly  make 
his  high  spirit  restive.  I  fear  the  property  is  entailed,  so  that 
threats  of  cutting  him  off  from  it  will  not  move  Maria.  Other- 
wise I  know  her  to  be  so  mercenary  that  (though  she  really  hath 
a  great  pliancy  for  this  handsome  ladd)  without  money  she 
would  not  hear  of  him.  All  I  could,  and  more  than  I  ought, 
I  have  done  to  prevent  the  match.  What  and  more  I  will  not 
say  in  writing;  but  that  I  am,  for  Henry  Esmond's  sake,  his 
grandson's  sincerest  friend,  and.  Madam, 

"  Your  faithful  sister  and  servant, 

"  Beatrix  Baroness  de  Bernstein." 


"  To  Mrs.  Esmond  Warrington,  of  Castlewood,  in  Virginia. 


»> 


On  the  back  of  this  letter  is  written,  in  Madam  Es- 
mond's hand,  "  My  sister  Bernstein's  letter,  received 
with  Henry's  December  24:  on  receipt  of  which  it  was 
determined  my  son  should  instantly  go  home." 


CHAPTER   XLII 


FORTUNATUS   NIMIUM 


HOUGH  Harry  War- 
rington persisted  in 
his  determination  to 
keep  that  dismal 
promise  which 
his  cousin  had 
extracted  from 
him,  we  trust  no 
benevolent  read- 
er will  think  so 
ill  of  him  as  to 
suppose  that  the 
engagement  was 
to  the  young  fel- 
low's taste,  and  that  he  would  not  be  heartily  glad  to  be 
rid  of  it.  Very  likely  the  beating  administered  to  poor 
AVill  was  to  this  end;  and  Harry  may  have  thought, 
"  A  boxing-match  between  us  is  sure  to  bring  on  a  quar- 
rel with  the  family;  in  the  quarrel  with  tlie  family,  Maria 
may  take  her  brother's  side.  I,  of  course,  will  make  no 
retraction  or  apology.  Will,  in  that  case,  may  call  me 
to  account,  when  I  know  which  is  the  better  man.  In 
the  midst  of  the  feud,  the  agreement  may  come  to  an 
end,  and  I  may  be  a  free  man  once  more." 

So  honest  Harry  laid  his  train,  and  fired  it:   but,  the 


546  THE  VIRGINIANS 

explosion  over,  no  harm  was  found  to  be  done,  except 
that  Wilham  Esmond's  nose  was  swollen,  and  his  eye 
black  for  a  week.  He  did  not  send  a  challenge  to 
his  cousin,  Harry  Warrington;  and,  in  consequence, 
neither  killed  Harry,  nor  was  killed  by  him.  Will  was 
knocked  down,  and  he  got  up  again.  How  many  men 
of  sense  would  do  the  same,  could  they  get  their  little 
account  settled  in  a  private  place,  with  nobody  to  tell 
how  the  score  was  paid!  Maria  by  no  means  took  her 
family's  side  in  the  quarrel,  but  declared  for  her  cousin, 
as  did  my  lord,  when  advised  of  the  disturbance.  Will 
had  struck  the  first  blow,  Lord  Castlewood  said,  by  the 
Chaplain's  showing.  It  was  not  the  first  or  the  tenth 
time  he  had  been  found  quarrelling  in  his  cups.  Mr. 
Warrington  only  showed  a  proper  spirit  in  resenting 
the  injury,  and  it  was  for  Will,  not  for  Harry,  to  ask 
pardon. 

Harry  said  he  would  accept  no  apology  as  long  as 
his  horse  was  not  retutned  or  his  bet  paid.  This  chroni- 
cler has  not  been  able  to  find  out,  from  any  of  the  papers 
which  have  come  under  his  view,  how  that  affair  of  the 
bet  was  finally  arranged:  but  'tis  certain  the  cousins 
presently  met  in  the  houses  of  various  friends,  and  with- 
out mauling  each  other. 

Maria's  elder  brother  had  been  at  fu'st  quite  willing 
that  his  sister,  who  had  remained  unmarried  for  so  many 
years,  and  on  the  train  of  whose  robe,  in  her  long  course 
over  the  path  of  life,  so  many  briars,  so  much  mud,  so 
many  rents  and  stains  had  naturally  gathered,  should 
marry  with  any  bridegroom  who  presented  himself,  and 
if  with  a  gentleman  from  Virginia,  so  much  the  better. 
She  would  retire  to  his  wigwam  in  the  forest,  and  there 
be  disposed  of.    In  the  natural  course  of  things,  Harry 


I 


THE  VIRGINIANS  547 

would  survive  his  elderly  bride,  and  might  console  him- 
^If  or  not,  as  he  preferred,  after  her  departure. 

But,  after  an  interview  with  Aunt  Bernstein,  which 
his  lordship  had  on  his  coming  to  London,  he  changed 
his  opinion :  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  try  and  dissuade 
Maria  from  the  match;  and  to  profess  a  pity  for  the 
young  fellow  Avho  was  to  be  made  to  undergo  a  life  of 
misery  on  account  of  a  silly  promise  given  at  one-and- 
twenty ! 

jNIisery,  indeed!  Maria  was  at  a  loss  to  know  why 
he  was  to  be  miserable.  Pity,  forsooth!  My  lord  at 
Castlewood  had  thought  it  was  no  pity  at  all.  Maria 
knew  what  pity  meant.  Her  brother  had  been  with 
Aunt  Bernstein:  Aunt  Bernstein  had  offered  money 
to  break  this  match  off.  She  understood  what  my  lord 
meant,  but  Mr.  Warrington  was  a  man  of  honour,  and 
she  could  trust  him.  Away,  upon  this,  walks  my  lord  to 
White's,  or  to  whatever  haunts  he  frequented.  It  is 
probable  that  his  sister  had  guessed  too  accurately  what 
the  nature  of  his  conversation  with  Madam  Bernstein 
had  been. 

"  And  so,"  thinks  he,  "  the  end  of  my  virtue  is  likely 
to  be  that  the  Mohock  will  fall  a  prey  to  others,  and  that 
there  is  no  earthly  use  in  my  sparing  him.  '  Quem  Deus 
vult '  —  what  was  the  schoolmaster's  adage?  If  I  don't 
have  him,  somebody  else  will,  that  is  clear.  My  brother 
has  liad  a  slice;  my  dear  sister  wants  to  swallow  the 
whole  of  liim  bodily.  Here  have  I  been  at  home  respect- 
ing his  youtli  and  innocence  forsooth,  declining  to  play 
beyond  the  value  of  a  sixpence,  and  acting  guai'dian  and 
Mentor  to  him.  Why,  I  am  but  a  fool  to  fatten  a  goose 
for  other  people  to  feed  off!  Not  many  a  good  action 
have  I  done  in  this  life,  and  here  is  this  one,  that  serves 


548  THE  VIRGINIANS 

to  benefit  whom?— other  folks.  Talk  of  remorse!  By 
all  the  fires  and  furies,  the  remorse  I  have  is  for  things 
I  haven't  done  and  might  have  done !  Why  did  I  spare 
Lucretia?  She  hated  me  ever  after,  and  her  husband 
went  the  way  for  which  he  was  predestined.  Why  have 
I  let  this  lad  off?— that  March  and  the  rest,  who  don't 
want  him,  may  pluck  him!  And  I  have  a  bad  repute; 
and  I  am  the  man  people  point  at,  and  call  the  wicked 
lord,  and  against  whom  women  warn  their  sons !  Pardi, 
I  am  not  a  penny  worse,  only  a  great  deal  more  unlucky 
than  my  neighbours,  and  'tis  only  my  cursed  weakness 
that  has  been  my  greatest  enemy!"  Here,  mani- 
festly, in  setting  down  a  speech  which  a  gentleman  only 
thought,  a  chronicler  overdraws  his  account  with  the  pa- 
tient reader,  who  has  a  right  not  to  accept  this  draft  on 
his  credulity.  But  have  not  Livy,  and  Thucydides,  and 
a  score  more  of  historians,  made  speeches  for  their 
heroes,  which  we  know  the  latter  never  thought  of  deliv- 
ering? How  much  more  may  we  then,  knowing  my 
Lord  Castlewood's  character  so  intimately  as  we  do,  de- 
clare what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and  transcribe  his 
thoughts  on  this  paper?  What?  a  whole  pack  of  the 
wolves  are  on  the  hunt  after  this  lamb,  and  will  make  a 
meal  of  him  presently,  and  one  hungry  old  hunter  is 
to  stand  by,  and  not  have  a  single  cutlet  ?  Who  has  not 
admired  that  noble  speech  of  my  Lord  Clive,  when 
reproached  on  his  return  from  India  with  making  rather 
too  free  with  jaghires,  lakhs,  gold  mohurs,  diamonds, 
pearls,  and  what  not:  "  Upon  my  life,"  said  the  hero 
of  Plassy,  "  when  I  think  of  my  opportunities,  I  am 
surprised  I  took  so  little!  " 

To  tell  disagreeable  stories  of  a  gentleman,  until  one 
is  in  a  manner  forced  to  impart  them,  is  always  painful 


THE  VIRGINIANS  549 

to  a  feeling  mind.  Hence,  though  I  have  known,  before 
^he  very  first  page  of  this  history  was  written,  what  sort 
of  a  person  my  Lord  Castlewood  was,  and  in  what  es- 
teem he  was  held  by  his  contemporaries,  I  have  kept 
back  much  that  was  unpleasant  about  him,  only  allowing 
the  candid  reader  to  perceive  that  he  was  a  nobleman 
who  ought  not  to  be  at  all  of  our  liking.  It  is  true  that 
my  Lord  March,  and  other  gentlemen  of  whom  he  com- 
plained, would  have  thought  no  more  of  betting  with 
]Mr.  Warrington  for  his  last  shilling,  and  taking  their 
winnings,  than  they  would  scruple  to  pick  the  bones  of 
a  chicken ;  that  they  would  take  any  advantage  of  the 
game,  or  their  superior  skill  in  it,  of  the  race,  and  their 
private  knowledge  of  the  horses  engaged ;  in  so  far,  they 
followed  the  practice  of  all  gentlemen:  but  when  they 
played,  they  played  fair ;  and  when  they  lost,  they  paid. 
Now  Madam  Bernstein  was  loth  to  tell  her  Virginian 
nephew  all  she  knew  to  his  family's  discredit;  she  was 
even  touched  by  my  lord's  forbearance  in  regard  to 
Harry  on  his  first  arrival  in  Europe;  and  pleased  with 
his  lordship's  compliance  with  her  wishes  in  this  par- 
ticular. But  in  the  conversation  which  she  had  with 
her  .nephew  Castlewood  regarding  Maria's  designs  on 
Harry,  he  had  spoken  his  mind  out  with  his  usual  cyni- 
cism, voted  himself  a  fool  for  having  spared  a  lad  whom 
no  sparing  would  eventually  keep  from  ruin;  pointed 
out  Mr.  Harry's  undeniable  extravagances  and  spend- 
thrift associates,  his  nights  at  faro  and  hazard,  and  his 
rides  to  Newmarket,  and  asked  why  he  alone  should 
keep  his  hands  from  the  young  fellow?  In  vain  Madam 
Bernstein  pleaded  that  Harry  was  poor.  Bah!  he  was 
heir  to  a  principality  which  ought  to  have  been  his, 
Castlewood's,  and  might  have  set  up  their  ruined  family. 


550  THE  VIRGINIANS 

(Indeed  Madam  Bernstein  thought  Mr.  Warrington's 
Virginia  property  much  greater  than  it  was.)  Were 
there  not  money-lenders  in  the  town  who  would  give 
him  money  on  post-obits  in  plenty?  Castlewood  knew 
as  much  to  his  cost:  he  had  applied  to  them  in  his 
father's  lifetime,  and  the  cursed  crew  had  eaten  up  two- 
thirds  of  his  miserable  income.  He  spoke  with  such 
desperate  candour  and  ill  humour,  that  Madam  Bern- 
stein began  to  be  alarmed  for  her  favourite,  and  deter- 
mined to  caution  him  at  the  first  opportunity. 

That  evening  she  began  to  pen  a  billet  to  Mr.  War- 
rington ;  but  all  her  life  long  she  was  slow  with  her  pen, 
and  disliked  using  it.  "  I  never  knew  any  good  come 
of  writing  more  than  bon  jour  or  business,"  she  used  to 
say.  "  What  is  the  use  of  writing  ill,  when  there  are 
so  many  clever  people  who  can  do  it  well  ?  and  even  then 
it  were  best  left  alone."  So  she  sent  one  of  her  men 
to  Mr.  Harry's  lodging,  bidding  him  come  and  drink  a 
dish  of  tea  with  her  next  day,  when  she  proposed  to  warn 
him. 

But  the  next  morning  she  was  indisposed,  and  could 
not  receive  Mr.  Harry  when  he  came :  and  she  kept  her 
chamber  for  a  couple  of  days,  and  the  next  day  there 
was  a  great  engagement ;  and  the  next  day  Mr.  Harry 
was  oif  on  some  expedition  of  his  own.  In  the  whirl 
of  London  life,  what  man  sees  his  neighbour,  what 
brother  his  sister,  what  schoolfellow  his  old  friend? 
Ever  so  many  days  passed  before  INIr.  Warrington  and 
his  aunt  had  that  confidential  conversation  which  the 
latter  desired. 

She  began  by  scolding  him  mildly  about  his  extrava- 
gance and  mad-cap  frolics  (though,  in  truth,  she  was 
charmed  with  him  for  both)  —he  replied  that  young  men 


THE  VIRGINIANS  551 

will  be  young  men,  and  that  it  was  in  dutifully  waiting 
in  attendance  on  his  aunt,  he  had  made  the  acquaintance 
ll^ith  whom  he  mostly  lived  at  present.  She  then,  with 
some  prelude,  began  to  warn  him  regarding  his  cousin, 
Lord  Castle  wood ;  on  which  he  broke  into  a  bitter  laugh, 
and  said  the  good-natured  world  had  told  him  plenty 
about  Lord  Castlewood  already.  "  To  say  of  a  man  of 
his  lordship's  rank,  or  of  any  gentleman,  '  Don't  play 
with  him,'  is  more  than  I  like  to  do,"  continued  the  lady; 
"  but  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  you  may  say  on,  aunt !  "  said  Harry,  with  some- 
thing like  an  imprecation  on  his  lips. 

"And  have  you  played  with  your  cousin  already?" 
asked  the  young  man's  worldly  old  monitress. 

"  And  lost  and  won,  JNIadam !  "  answers  Harry,  gal- 
lantly. "  It  don't  become  me  to  say  which.  If  we  have 
a  bout  with  a  neighbour  in  Virginia,  a  bottle,  or  a  pack 
of  cards,  or  a  quarrel,  we  don't  go  home  and  tell  our 
mothers.  I  mean  no  offence,  aunt!"  And,  blushing, 
the  handsome  young  fellow  went  up  and  kissed  the  old 
lady.  He  looked  very  brave  and  brilliant,  with  his  rich 
lace,  his  fair  face  and  hair,  his  fine  new  suit  of  velvet  and 
gold.  On  taking  leave  of  his  aunt  he  gave  his  usual 
sumptuous  benefactions  to  her  servants,  who  crowded 
round  him.  It  was  a  rainy  winter  day,  and  my  gentle- 
man, to  save  his  fine  silk  stockings,  must  come  in  a  chair. 
"  To  White's!  "  he  called  out  to  the  chairmen,  and  away 
they  carried  him  to  the  place  where  he  passed  a  great 
deal  of  his  time. 

Our  Virginian's  friends  might  have  wished  that  he 
had  been  a  less  sedulous  frequenter  of  that  house  of 
entertainment!  but  so  much  may  be  said  in  favour 
of  Mr.  Warrington  that,  having  engaged  in  play,  he 


552  THE  VIRGINIANS 

fought  his  battle  hke  a  hero.  He  was  not  flustered  by 
good  luck,  and  perfectly  calm  when  the  chances  went 
against  him.  If  Fortune  is  proverbially  fickle  to  men 
at  play,  how  many  men  are  fickle  to  Fortune,  run  away 
frightened  from  her  advances;  and  desert  her,  who, 
2)erhaps,  had  never  thought  of  leaving  them  but  for 
their  cowardice.  "  By  George,  Mr.  Warrington,"  said 
Mr.  Selwyn,  waking  up  in  a  rare  fit  of  enthusiasm, 
"  you  deserve  to  win!  You  treat  your  luck  as  a  gentle- 
man should,  and  as  long  as  she  remains  with  you,  behave 
to  her  with  the  most  perfect  politeness.  Si  celeres  quatit 
pennas— you  know  the  rest.  No?  Well,  you  are  not 
much  the  worse  oiF— you  will  call  her  ladyship's  coach, 
and  make  her  a  bow  at  the  step.  Look  at  Lord  Castle- 
wood  yonder,  passing  the  box.  Did  you  ever  hear  a 
fellow  curse  and  swear  so  at  losing  five  or  six  pieces? 
She  must  be  a  jade  indeed,  if  she  long  give  her  favours 
to  such  a  niggardly  canaille  as  that!  " 

"  We  don't  consider  our  family  canaille,  sir,"  says 
Mr.  Warrington,  "  and  my  Lord  Castlewood  is  one  of 
them." 

"  I  forgot.  I  forgot,  and  ask  your  pardon!  And  I 
make  you  my  compliment  upon  my  lord,  and  Mr.  Will 
Esmond  his  brother,"  says  Harry's  neighbour  at  the 
hazard-table.  "  The  box  is  with  me.  Five's  the  main! 
Deuce  Ace !  my  usual  luck.  Virtute  mea  me  involvo !  " 
and  he  sinks  back  in  his  chair. 

Whether  it  was  upon  this  occasion  of  taking  the  box, 
that  Mr.  Harry  threw  the  fifteen  mains  mentioned  in 
one  of  those  other  letters  of  Mr.  Walpole's,  which  have 
not  come  into  his  present  learned  editor's  hands,  I  know 
not;  but  certain  it  is,  that  on  his  first  appearance  at 
"  White's,"  Harry  had  five  or  six  evenings  of  prodi- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  553 

gious  good  luck,  and  seemed  more  than  ever  the  For- 
tunate Youth.  The  five  hundred  pounds  withdrawn 
*^rom  his  patrimonial  inheritance  had  multiplied  into 
thousands.  He  bought  fine  clothes,  purchased  fine 
horses,  gave  grand  entertainments,  made  handsome 
presents,  lived  as  if  he  had  been  as  rich  as  Sir  James 
Lowther,  or  his  Grace  of  Bedford,  and  yet  the  five  thou- 
sand pounds  never  seemed  to  diminish.  No  wonder  that 
he  gave  where  giving  was  so  easy;  no  wonder  that  he 
was  generous  with  Fortunatus's  purse  in  his  pocket.  I 
say  no  wonder  that  he  gave,  for  such  was  his  nature. 
Other  Fortunati  tie  up  the  endless  purse,  drink  small 
beer,  and  go  to  bed  with  a  tallow  candle. 

During  this  vein  of  his  luck,  what  must  INIr.  Harry 
do,  but  find  out  from  Lady  Maria  what  her  ladyship's 
debts  were,  and  pay  them  off  to  the  last  shilling.  Her 
stepmother  and  half-sister,  who  did  not  love  her,  he 
treated  to  all  sorts  of  magnificent  presents.  "  Had  you 
not  better  get  yourself  arrested,  Will?"  my  lord  sar- 
donically said  to  his  brother.  "  Although  you  bit  him 
in  that  affair  of  the  horse,  the  jMohock  will  certainly  take 
you  out  of  pawn."  It  was  then  that  ]Mr.  William  felt 
a  true  remorse,  though  not  of  that  humble  kind  which 
sent  the  repentant  Prodigal  to  his  knees.  "  Confound 
it,"  he  groaned,  "  to  think  that  I  have  let  this  fellow  slip 
for  such  a  little  matter  as  fifty  pound!  Why,  he  was 
good  for  a  thousand  at  least." 

As  for  Maria,  that  generous  creature  accepted  the 
good  fortune  sent  her  with  a  grateful  heart;  and  was 
ready  to  accept  as  much  more  as  you  pleased.  Having 
paid  off  her  debts  to  her  various  milliners,  tradesmen, 
and  purveyors,  she  forthwith  ])roceeded  to  contract  new 
ones.    Mrs.  Betty,  her  ladysl]i])'s  maid,  went  round  in- 


554  THE  VIRGINIANS 

forming  the  tradespeople  that  her  mistress  was  about  to 
contract  a  matrimonial  alliance  with  a  young  gentleman 
of  immense  fortune ;  so  that  they  might  give  my  lady 
credit  to  anj^  amount.  Having  heard  the  same  story 
twice  or  thrice  before,  the  tradesfolk  might  not  give  it 
entire  credit,  but  their  bills  were  paid:  even  to  Mrs. 
Pincott,  of  Kensington,  my  lady  showed  no  rancour, 
and  affably  ordered  fresh  supplies  from  her ;  and  when 
she  drove  about  from  the  mercer  to  the  toy-shop,  and 
from  the  toy-shop  to  the  jeweller,  in  a  coach,  with  her 
maid  and  ]Mr.  Warrington  inside,  they  thought  her  a 
fortunate  woman  indeed,  to  have  secured  the  Fortunate 
Youth,  though  they  might  wonder  at  the  taste  of  this 
latter  in  having  selected  so  elderly  a  beauty.  Mr. 
Sparks,  of  Tavistock  Street,  Covent  Garden,  took  the 
liberty  of  waiting  upon  Mr.  Warrington  at  his  lodgings 
in  Bond  Street,  with  the  pearl  necklace  and  the  gold 
etwee  which  he  had  bought  in  Lady  Maria's  company 
the  day  before;  and  asking  whether  he.  Sparks,  should 
leave  them  at  his  honour's  lodging,  or  send  them  to  her 
ladyship  with  his  honour's  compliments?  Harry  added 
a  ring  out  of  the  stock  wliich  the  jeweller  happened  to 
bring  with  him,  to  the  necklace  and  the  etwee;  and 
sumptuously  bidding  that  individual  to  send  him  in  the 
bill,  took  a  majestic  leave  of  Mr.  Sparks,  who  retired, 
bowing  even  to  Gumbo,  as  he  quitted  his  honour's  pres- 
ence. 

Nor  did  his  bounties  end  here.  Ere  many  days  the 
pleased  young  fellow  drove  up  in  his  phaeton  to  Mr. 
Sparks'  shop,  and  took  a  couple  of  trinkets  for  two 
young  ladies,  whose  parents  had  been  kind  to  him,  and 
for  whom  he  entertained  a  sincere  regard.  "Ah!" 
thought  he,  "  how  I  wish  I  had  my  poor  George's  wit 


THE  VIRGINIANS  555 

and  genius  for  poetry !  I  would  send  these  presents  with 
pretty  verses  to  Hetty  and  Theo.  I  am  sure,  if  good- 
will and  real  regard  could  make  a  poet  of  me,  I  should 
have  no  difficulty  in  finding  rhymes."  And  so  he  called 
in  Parson  Sampson,  and  they  concocted  a  billet  together. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 


IN   WHICH   HARRY   FLIES   HIGH 

Mr.  Harry  Warrington, 
of  Virginia,  had  his  lodg- 
ings in  Bond  Street,  Lon- 
don, England,  and  lived 
upon  the  fat  of  the  land, 
and  drank  bumpers  of  the 
best  wine  thereof.  His 
title  of  Fortunate  Youth 
was  pretty  generally  rec- 
ognized. Being  young, 
wealthy,  good  -  looking, 
and  fortunate,  the  fash- 
ionable world  took  him  by 
the  hand  and  made  him 
welcome .  Harry  was  liked 
because  he  was  likable;  because  he  was  rich,  handsome, 
jovial,  well-born,  well-bred,  brave;  because,  with  jolly 
topers,  he  liked  a  jolly  song  and  a  bottle;  because,  with 
gentlemen  sportsmen,  he  loved  any  game  that  was  a-f  oot 
or  a-horseback;  because,  with  ladies,  he  had  a  modest 
blushing  timidity  which  rendered  the  lad  interesting; 
because,  to  those  humbler  than  himself  in  degree  he  was 
always  magnificently  liberal,  and  anxious  to  spare  an- 
noyance. Our  Virginian  was  very  grand,  and  high  and 
mighty,  to  be  sure ;  but,  in  those  times,  when  the  distinc- 

556 


THE  VIRGINIANS  557 

tion  of  ranks  j^et  obtained,  to  be  high  and  distant  with 
jbis  inferiors,  brought  no  unpopularity  to  a  gentleman. 
Remember  that,  in  those  days,  the  Secretary  of  State  al- 
ways knelt  when  he  went  to  the  king  with  his  despatches 
of  a  morning,  and  the  Under-Secretary  never  dared  to 
sit  down  in  his  chief's  presence.  If  I  were  Secretary  of 
State  (and  such  there  have  been  amongst  men  of  let- 
ters since  Addison's  days)  I  should  not  like  to  kneel 
when  I  went  in  to  my  audience  with  my  despatch-box. 
If  I  were  Under-Secretary,  I  should  not  like  to  have  to 
stand,  whilst  the  Right  Honourable  Benjamin  or  the 
Right  Honourable  Sir  Edward  looked  over  the  papers. 
But  there  is  a  modus  in  rebus:  there  are  certain  lines 
which  must  be  drawn:  and  I  am  only  half  pleased,  for 
my  part,  when  Bob  Bowstreet,  whose  connection  with 
letters  is  through  Policeman  X  and  Y,  and  Tom  Gar- 
bage, who  is  an  esteemed  contributor  to  the  Kennel  Mis- 
cellany, propose  to  join  fellowship  as  brother  literary 
men,  slap  me  on  the  back,  and  call  me  old  boy,  or  by 
my  Christian  name. 

As  much  pleasure  as  the  town  could  give  in  the  win- 
ter season  of  1756  -  57,  Mr.  Warrington  had  for  the  ask- 
ing. There  were  operas  for  him,  in  which  he  took  but 
moderate  delight.  (A  prodigious  deal  of  satire  was 
brought  to  bear  against  these  Italian  Operas,  and  they 
were  assailed  for  being  foolish,  Popish,  unmanly,  un- 
meaning; but  people  went,  nevertheless.)  There  were 
the  theatres,  with  Mr.  Garrick  and  Mrs.  Pritchard  at 
one  house,  and  Mrs.  Clive  at  another.  There  were  mas- 
querades and  ridottos,  frequented  by  all  the  fine  society; 
there  were  their  lordships'  and  ladyships'  own  private 
drums  and  assemblies,  which  began  and  ended  with 
cards,  and  which  Mr.  Warrington  did  not  like  so  well 


558  THE  VIRGINIANS 

as  White's,  because  the  play  there  was  neither  so  high 
nor  so  fair  as  at  the  club-table. 

One  day  his  kinsman,  Lord  Castlewood,  took  him  to 
Court,  and  presented  Harry  to  his  Majesty,  who  was 
now  come  to  town  from  Kensington.  But  that  gracious 
sovereign  either  did  not  like  Harry's  introducer,  or  had 
other  reasons  for  being  sulky.  His  Majesty  only  said, 
"  Oh,  heard  of  you  from  Lady  Yarmouth.  The  Earl 
of  Castlewood  "  (turning  to  his  lordship,  and  speaking 
in  German,)  "  shall  tell  him  that  he  plays  too  much! " 
And  so  saying,  the  Defender  of  the  Faith  turned  his 
royal  back.  Lord  Castlewood  shrank  back  quite  fright- 
ened at  this  cold  reception  of  his  august  master. 

"  What  does  he  say?  "  asked  Harry. 

"  His  Majesty  thinks  they  play  too  high  at  White's, 
and  is  displeased,"  whispered  the  nobleman. 

"  If  he  does  not  want  us,  we  had  better  not  come 
again,  that  is  all,"  said  Harrj^  simply.  "  I  never,  some- 
how, considered  that  German  fellow  a  real  King  of 
England." 

"  Hush !  for  heaven's  sake,  hold  your  confounded 
colonial  tongue!"  cries  out  my  lord.  "Don't  you  see 
the  walls  here  have  ears?  " 

"  And  what  then?  "  asks  Mr.  Warrington.  "  Why, 
look  at  the  people!  Hang  me,  if  it  is  not  quite  a  curi- 
osity! They  were  all  shaking  hands  with  me,  and  bow- 
ing to  me,  and  flattering  me  just  now;  and  at  present 
they  avoid  me  as  if  I  were  the  plague !  " 

"  Shake  hands,  nephew,"  said  a  broad-faced,  broad- 
shouldered  gentleman  in  a  scarlet-laced  waistcoat,  and 
a  great  old-fashioned  wig.  "  I  heard  what  you  said.  I 
have  ears  like  the  wall,  look  you.  And,  now,  if  other 
people  show  you  the  cold  shoulder,  I'll  give  you  my 


^■^ 
-^J^ 


-™rr        -4- 


Harry  is  presented  to 
a  Great  Peraonage 


« 


THE  VIRGINIANS  559 

hand."  And  so  saying,  the  gentleman  put  out  a  great 
brown  hand,  with  which  he  grasped  Harry's.  "  Some- 
thing of  my  brother  about  your  eyes  and  face.  Though 
I  suppose  in  your  island  you  grow  more  wiiy  and  thin 
like.  I  am  thine  uncle,  child.  My  name  is  Sir  Miles 
Warrington.     My  lord  knows  me  well  enough." 

My  lord  looked  very  frightened  and  yellow.  "  Yes^ 
my  dear  Harry.  This  is  your  paternal  uncle,  Sir  Miles 
Warrington." 

"  Might  as  well  have  come  to  see  us  in  Norfolk,  as 
dangle  about  playing  the  fool  at  Tunbridge  Wells,  Mr. 
Warrington,  or  ]\Ir.  Esmond, — which  do  you  call  your- 
self? "  said  the  Baronet.  "  The  old  lady  calls  herself 
Madam  Esmond,  don't  she?  " 

"  My  mother  is  not  ashamed  of  her  father's  name,  nor 
am  I,  uncle,"  said  Mr.  Harry,  rather  proudly. 

"  Well  said,  lad!  Come  home  and  eat  a  bit  of  mutton 
with  Lady  Warrington,  at  three,  in  Hill  Street, — that 
is,  if  you  can  do  without  your  White's  kickshaws.  You 
need  not  look  frightened,  my  Lord  Castlewood!  I  shall 
tell  no  tales  out  of  school." 

"I — I  am  sure  Sir  Miles  Warrington  will  act  as  a 
gentleman!  "  says  my  lord,  in  much  perturbation. 

"  Belike  he  will,"  growled  the  Baronet,  turning  on  his 
heel.  "  And  thou  wilt  come,  young  man,  at  three;  and 
mind,  good  roast  mutton  waits  for  nobody.  Thou  hast 
a  great  look  of  thy  father.  Lord  bless  us,  how  we  used 
to  beat  each  other!  He  was  smaller  than  me,  and  in 
course  younger;  but  many  a  time  he  had  the  best  of  it. 
Take  it  he  was  henpecked  when  he  married,  and 
Madam  Esmond  took  the  spirit  out  of  him  when  she 
got  him  in  her  island.  Virginia  is  an  island.  Ain't  it 
an  island? " 


560  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Harry  laughed,  and  said  *'  No! "  And  the  jolly 
Baronet,  going  off,  said,  "  Well,  island  or  not,  thou 
must  come  and  tell  all  about  it  to  my  lady.  She'll  know 
whether  'tis  an  island  or  not." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Warrington,"  said  my  lord,  with  an 
appealing  look,  "  I  need  not  tell  you  that,  in  this  great 
city,  every  man  has  enemies,  and  that  there  is  a  great, 
great  deal  of  detraction  and  scandal.  I  never  spoke  to 
you  about  Sir  Miles  Warrington,  precisely  because  I 
did  know  him,  and  because  we  have  had  differences  to- 
gether. Should  he  permit  himself  remarks  to  my  dis- 
paragement, you  will  receive  them  cum  grano,  and  re- 
member that  it  is  from  an  enemy  they  come."  And  the 
pair  walked  out  of  the  King's  apartments  and  into  Saint 
James's  Street.  Harry  found  the  news  of  his  cold  re- 
ception at  court  had  already  preceded  him  to  White's. 
The  King  had  turned  his  back  upon  him.  The  King 
was  jealous  of  Harry's  favour  with  the  favourite. 
Harry  was  au  mieuoc  with  Lady  Yarmouth.  A  score 
of  gentlemen  wished  him  a  compliment  upon  his  con- 
quest. Before  night  it  was  a  settled  matter  that  this 
was  amongst  the  other  victories  of  the  Fortunate 
Youth. 

Sir  Miles  told  his  wife  and  Harry  as  much,  when  the 
young  man  appeared  at  the  appointed  hour  at  the  Bar- 
onet's dinner-table,  and  he  rallied  Harry  in  his  simple 
rustic  fashion.  The  lady,  at  first  a  grand  and  stately 
personage,  told  Harry,  on  their  further  acquaintance, 
that  the  reputation  which  the  world  had  made  for  him 
was  so  bad,  that  at  first  she  had  given  him  but  a  frigid 
welcome.  With  the  young  ladies.  Sir  Miles's  daughters, 
it  was,  "  How  d'ye  do,  cousin? "  and  "  No,  thank  you, 
cousin,"  and  a  number  of  prim  curtseys  to  the  Virginian, 


THE  VIRGINIANS  561 

as  they  greeted  him  and  took  leave  of  him.  The  little 
boy,  the  heir  of  the  house,  dined  at  table,  under  the  care 
'6'f  his  governor ;  and,  having  his  glass  of  port  by  papa 
after  dinner,  gave  a  loose  to  his  innocent  tongue,  and 
asked  many  questions  of  his  cousin.  At  last  the  inno- 
cent youth  said,  after  looking  hard  in  Harry's  face, 
"  Are  you  wicked.  Cousin  Harry?  You  don't  look  very 
wicked!" 

"My  dear  Master  ]Miles!"  expostulates  the  tutor, 
turning  very  red. 

"  But  you  know  you  said  he  was  wicked!  "  cried  the 
child. 

"  We  are  all  miserable  sinners,  Miley,"  explains  papa. 
"  Haven't  you  heard  the  clergyman  say  so  every  Sun- 
day?" 

"  Yes,  but  not  so  very  wicked  as  Cousin  Harry.  Is 
it  true  that  you  gamble,  cousin,  and  drink  all  night 
with  wicked  men,  and  frequent  the  company  of  wicked 
women?  You  know  you  said  so,  Mr.  Walker — and 
mamma  said  so,  too,  that  Lady  Yarmouth  was  a  wicked 
woman." 

"  And  you  are  a  little  pitcher,"  cries  papa:  "  and  my 
wife.  Nephew  Harry,  is  a  staunch  Jacobite — you  won't 
like  her  the  worse  for  tliat.  Take  Miles  to  his  sisters, 
Mr.  Walker,  and  Topsham  shall  give  thee  a  ride  in  the 
park,  child,  on  thy  little  horse."  The  idea  of  the  little 
horse  consoled  Master  Miles;  for,  when  his  father  or- 
dered him  away  to  his  sisters,  he  had  begun  to  cry  bit- 
terly, bawling  out  that  he  would  far  rather  stay  with  liis 
wicked  cousin. 

"  They  have  made  you  a  sad  reputation  among  'em. 
nephew!  "  says  the  jolly  Baronet.  "  ]My  wife,  you  must 
know,  of  late  years,  and  since  the  death  of  my  poor  eld- 


502  THE  VIRGINIANS 

est  son,  has  taken  to,— to,  hum!— to  Tottenham  Court 
Road  and  Mr.  Whitfield's  preaching:  and  we  have  had 
one  Ward  about  the  house,  a  friend  of  Mr.  Walker's 
yonder,  who  has  recounted  sad  stories  about  you  and 
your  brother  at  home." 

"  About  me,  Sir  Miles,  as  much  as  he  pleases,"  cries 
Harry,  warm  with  port;  "but  I'll  break  any  man's 
bones  who  dares  say  a  word  against  my  brother!  Why, 
sir,  that  fellow  was  not  fit  to  buckle  my  dear  George's 
shoe ;  and  if  I  find  him  repeating  at  home  what  he  dared 
to  say  in  our  house  in  Virginia,  I  promise  him  a  second 
caning." 

"  You  seem  to  stand  up  for  your  friends.  Nephew 
Harry,"  says  the  Baronet.  "  Fill  thy  glass,  lad,  thou 
art  not  as  bad  as  thou  hast  been  painted.  I  always  told 
my  lady  so.  I  drink  Madam  Esmond  Warrington's 
health,  of  Virginia,  and  will  have  a  full  bumper  for  that 
toast." 

Harry,  as  in  duty  bound,  emptied  his  glass,  filled 
again,  and  drank  Lady  Warrington  and  Master  Miles. 

"  Thou  wouldst  be  heir  to  four  thousand  acres  in 
Norfolk,  did  he  -die,  though,"  said  the  Baronet. 

"  God  forbid,  sir,  and  be  praised  that  I  have  acres 
enough  in  Virginia  of  my  own !  "  says  ]VIr.  Warring- 
ton. He  went  up  presently  and  took  a  dish  of  coffee 
with  Lady  Warrington:  he  talked  to  the  young  ladies 
of  the  house.  He  was  quite  easy,  pleasant,  and  natural. 
There  was  one  of  them  somewhat  like  Fanny  Mountain, 
and  this  young  lady  became  his  special  favourite.  When 
he  went  away,  they  all  agreed  their  wicked  cousin  was 
not  near  so  wicked  as  they  had  imagined  him  to  be:  at 
any  rate,  my  lady  had  strong  hopes  of  rescuing  him 
from  the  pit.    She  sent  him  a  good  book  that  evening. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  563 

whilst  jNIr.  Harry  was  at  White's;  with  a  pretty  note, 
praying  that  *'  Law's  Call "  might  be  of  service  to  him: 
and,  this  despatched,  she  and  her  daughters  went  off  to 
a  rout  at  the  house  of  a  minister's  lady.  But  Harry, 
before  he  went  to  White's,  had  driven  to  his  friend  Mr. 
Sparks,  in  Tavistock  Street,  and  purchased  more  trin- 
kets for  his  female  cousins — "  from  their  aunt  in  Vir- 
ginia," he  said.  You  see,  he  was  full  of  kindness:  he 
kindled  and  warmed  with  prosperity.  There  are  men  on 
whom  wealth  hath  no  such  fortunate  influence.  It 
hardens  base  hearts :  it  makes  those  who  were  mean  and 
servile,  mean  and  proud.  If  it  should  please  the  gods 
to  try  me  with  ten  thousand  a  year,  I  will,  of  course, 
meekly  submit  myself  to  their  decrees,  but  I  will  pray 
them  to  give  me  strength  enough  to  bear  the  trial.  All 
the  girls  in  Hill  Street  were  delighted  at  getting  the 
presents  from  Aunt  Warrington  in  Virginia,  and  ad- 
dressed a  collective  note,  which  must  have  astonished  that 
good  lady  when  she  received  it  in  Spring  time,  when  she 
and  Mountain  and  Fanny  were  on  a  visit  to  grim,  de- 
serted Castlewood,  when  the  snows  had  cleared  away,  and 
a  thousand  peach-trees  flushed  with  blossoms.  "  Poor 
boy!"  the  mother  thought.  "  This  is  some  present  he 
gave  his  cousins  in  my  name,  in  the  time  of  his  pros- 
perity— nay,  of  his  extravagance  and  folly.  How 
quickly  his  wealth  has  passed  away!  But  he  ever  had 
a  kind  heart  for  the  poor.  Mountain ;  and  we  must  not 
forget  him  in  his  need.  It  behooves  us  to  be  more  than 
ever  careful  of  our  own  expenses,  my  good  people!" 
And  so,  T  dare  say,  they  warmed  themselves  by  one  log, 
and  ate  of  one  dish,  and  worked  by  one  candle.  And 
the  widow's  servants,  whom  the  good  soul  began  to 
pinch  more  and  more  I  fear,  lied,  stole,  and  cheated  more 


5G4  THE  VIRGINIANS 

and  more :  and  what  was  saved  in  one  way,  was  stole  in 
another. 

One  afternoon,  Mr.  Harry  sat  in  his  Bond  Street 
lodgings,  arrayed  in  his  dressing-gown,  sipping  his 
chocolate,  surrounded  by  luxury,  encased  in  satin,  and 
yet  enveloped  in  care.  A  few  weeks  previously,  when 
the  luck  was  with  him,  and  he  was  scattering  his  bene- 
factions to  and  fro,  he  had  royally  told  Parson  Samp- 
son to  get  together  a  list  of  his  debts,  which  he,  Mr. 
Warrington,  would  pay.  Accordingly,  Sampson  had 
gone  to  work,  and  had  got  together  a  list,  not  of  all  his 
debts, — no  man  ever  does  set  down  all,— but  such  a 
catalogue  as  he  thought  sufficient  to  bring  in  to  Mr. 
Warrington,  at  whose  breakfast-table  the  divine  had 
humbly  waited  until  his  honour  should  choose  to  at- 
tend it. 

Harry  appeared  at  length,  very  pale  and  languid,  in 
curl-papers,  had  scarce  any  appetite  for  his  breakfast; 
and  the  Chaplain,  fumbling  with  his  schedule  in  his 
pocket,  humbl}^  asked  if  his  patron  had  had  a  bad  night  ? 
Yes,  his  honour  had  had  a  very  bad  night.  He  had  been 
brought  home  from  White's  by  two  chairmen  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning;  had  caught  a  confounded  cold, 
for  one  of  the  windows  of  the  chair  would  not  shut,  and 
the  rain  and  snow  came  in ;  finally,  was  in  such  a  bad 
humour,  that  all  poor  Sampson's  quirks  and  jokes 
could  scarcely  extort  a  smile  from  him. 

At  last,  to  be  sure,  Mr.  Warrington  burst  into  a  loud 
laugh.  It  was  when  the  poor  Chaplain,  after  a  sufficient 
discussion  of  muffins,  eggs,  tea,  the  news,  the  theatres, 
and  so  forth,  pulled  a  paper  out  of  his  pocket,  and  in  a 
piteous  tone  said,  "  Here  is  that  schedule  of  debts  which 
your  honour  asked  for— two  hundred  and  forty-three 


THE  VIRGINIANS  565 

pounds— every  shilling  I  owe  in  the  world,  thank 
heaven!— that  is— ahem!— every  shilling  of  which  the 
payment  will  in  the  least  inconvenience  me — and  I  need 
not  tell  my  dearest  patron  that  I  shall  consider  him 
my  saviour  and  benefactor!  " 

It  was  then  that  Harry,  taking  the  paper  and  eyeing 
the  Chaplain  with  rather  a  wicked  look,  burst  into  a 
laugh,  which  was,  how^ever,  anything  but  jovial.  Wicked 
execrations,  moreover,  accompanied  this  outbreak  of 
humour,  and  the  luckless  Chaplain  felt  that  his  petition 
had  come  at  the  wrong  moment. 

"  Confound  it,  why  didn't  you  bring  it  on  Monday?  " 
Harrv  asked. 

"  Confound  me,  why  did  I  not  bring  it  on  Monday?  " 
echoed  the  Chaplain's  timid  soul.  "  It  is  my  luck — my 
usual  luck.  Have  the  cards  been  against  you,  Mr.  War- 
rington? " 

"Yes:  a  plague  on  them.  Monday  night,  and  last 
night,  have  both  gone  against  me.  Don't  be  frightened, 
Chaplain,  there's  money  enough  in  the  locker  yet.  But 
I  must  go  into  the  City  and  get  some." 

"  What,  sell  out,  sir?  "  asks  his  Reverence,  with  a  voice 
that  was  re-assured,  though  it  intended  to  be  alarmed. 
"  Sell  out,  sir?  Yes!  I  borrowed  a  hundred  of  Mack- 
reth  in  counters  last  night,  and  must  pay  him  at  dinner- 
time. I  will  do  your  business  for  you  nevertheless,  and 
never  fear,  my  good  Mr.  Sampson.  Come  to  breakfast 
to-morrow,  and  we  will  see  and  deliver  your  Reverence 
from  the  Philistines."  But  though  he  laughed  in  Samp- 
son's presence,  and  strove  to  put  a  good  face  upon  the 
matter,  Harry's  head  sank  down  on  his  chest  when  the 
parson  quitted  him,  and  he  sat  over  the  fire,  beating  the 
coals  about  with  the  poker,  and  giving  utterance  to 


566  THE  VIRGINIANS 

many  naughty  disjointed  words,  which  showed,  hut  did 
not  reheve,  the  agitation  of  his  spirit. 

In  this  mood,  the  young  fellow  was  interrupted  by  the 
appearance  of  a  friend,  who  on  any  other  day — even  on 
that  one  when  his  conscience  was  so  uneasy — was  wel- 
come to  ]Mr.  Warrington.  This  was  no  other  than  Mr. 
Lambert,  in  his  military  dress,  but  with  a  cloak  over  him, 
who  had  come  from  the  country,  had  been  to  the  Cap- 
tain-General's levee  that  morning,  and  had  come  thence 
to  visit  his  j^oung  friend  in  Bond  Street. 

Harry  may  have  thought  Lambert's  greeting  rather 
cold;  but  being  occupied  with  his  own  affairs,  he  put 
away  that  notion.  How  were  the  ladies  of  Oakhurst, 
and  Miss  Hetty,  who  was  ailing  when  he  passed  through 
in  the  autumn?  Purely?  Mr.  Warrington  was  very 
glad.  They  were  come  to  stay  awhile  in  London  with 
their  friend  Lord  Wrotham?  Mr.  Harry  was  delighted 
— though  it  must  be  confessed  his  face  did  not  exhibit 
any  peculiar  signs  of  pleasure  when  he  heard  the  news. 

"  And  so  you  live  at  White's,  and  with  the  great 
folks;  and  you  fare  sumptuously  every  day,  and  you 
pay  your  court  at  St.  James's,  and  make  one  at  my 
Lady  Yarmouth's  routs,  and  at  all  the  card-parties  in 
the  Court  end  of  the  town? "  asks  the  Colonel. 

"  My  dear  Colonel,  I  do  what  other  folks  do,"  says 
Harry,  with  rather  a  high  manner. 

"  Other  folks  are  richer  folks  than  some  folks,  my 
dear  lad." 

"  Sir!  "  says  Mr.  Warrington,  "  I  would  thank  you 
to  believe  that  I  owe  nothing  for  which  I  cannot  pay !  " 

"  I  should  never  have  spoken  about  your  affairs,"  said 
the  other,  not  noticing  the  young  man's  haughty  tone, 
*'  but  that  you  yourself  confided  them  to  me.    I  hear  all 


THE  VIRGINIANS  567 

sorts  of  stories  about  the  Fortunate  Youth.    Only  at  his 

;.^oyal  Highness's  even  to-day,  they  were  saying  how 

rich  you  were  ah-eady,  and  I  did  not  undeceive  them — " 

"  Colonel  Lambert,  I  can't  help  the  world  gossiping 
about  me! "  cries  Mr.  Warrington,  more  and  more  im- 
patient. 

" — And  what  prodigious  sums  you  had  won.  Eight- 
een hundred  one  night — two  thousand  another — six  or 
eight  thousand  in  all!  Oh!  there  were  gentlemen  from 
White's  at  the  levee  too,  I  can  assure  you,  and  the  army 
can  fling  a  main  as  weU  as  you  civilians!  " 

"  I  wish  they  would  meddle  with  their  own  affairs," 
says  Harry,  scowling  at  his  old  friend. 

"  And  I,  too,  you  look  as  if  you  were  going  to  say. 
Well,  my  boy,  it  is  my  affair,  and  you  must  let  Theo's 
father  and  Hetty's  father,  and  Harry  Warrington's 
father's  old  friend  say  Jiow  it  is  my  affair."  Here  the 
Colonel  drew  a  packet  out  of  his  pocket.  "  Look  you, 
Harry.  These  trinkets  which  you  sent  with  the  kindest 
heart  in  the  world  to  people  who  love  you,  and  would 
cut  off  their  little  hands  to  spare  j^ou  needless  pain, 
could  never  be  bought  by  a  young  fellow  with  two  or 
three  hundred  a  year.  Why,  a  nobleman  might  buy  these 
things,  or  a  rich  City  banker,  and  send  them  to  his — to 
his  daughters,  let  us  say." 

"  Sir,  as  you  say,  I  meant  only  kindness,"  says  Harry, 
blushing  burning-red. 

"  But  you  must  not  give  them*  to  my  girls,  my  boy, 
Hester  and  Theodosia  I^ambert  must  not  be  dressed  u]) 
with  the  winnings  off  the  gaming-table,  saving  your 
presence.  It  goes  to  my  Iieart  to  bring  back  the  trinkets. 
Mrs.  T^ambert  will  keep  her  present,  which  is  of  small 
value,  and  sends  you  her  love  and  a  God  bless  you— and 


568  THE  VIRGINIANS 

so  say  I,  Harry  Warrington,  with  all  my  heart."  Here 
the  good  Colonel's  voice  was  much  moved,  and  his  face 
grew  very  red,  and  he  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes  ere 
he  held  it  out. 

But  the  spirit  of  rebellion  was  strong  in  Mr.  War- 
rington. He  rose  up  from  his  seat,  never  offering  to 
take  the  hand  which  his  senior  held  out  to  him.  "  Give 
me  leave  to  tell  Colonel  Lambert,"  he  said,  "  that  I 
have  had  somewhat  too  much  advice  from  him.  You 
are  for  ever  volunteering  it,  sir,  and  when  I  don't  ask  it. 
You  make  it  your  business  to  inquire  about  my  gains  at 
play,  and  about  the  company  I  keep.  What  right  have 
you  to  control  my  amusements  or  my  companions?  I 
strive  to  show  my  sense  of  your  former  kindness  by  little 
presents  to  your  family,  and  you  fling — you  bring  them 
back." 

"  I  can't  do  otherwise,  Mr.  Warrington,"  says  the 
Colonel,  with  a  very  sad  face. 

"  Such  a  slight  may  mean  nothing  here,  sir,  but  in  our 
country  it  means  war,  sir!"  cries  Mr.  Warrington. 
*'  God  forbid  I  should  talk  of  drawing  a  sword  against 
the  father  of  ladies  who  have  been  as  mother  and  sister 
to  me :  but  you  have  wounded  my  heart.  Colonel  Lam- 
bert— you  have,  I  won't  say  insulted,  but  humiliated  me, 
and  this  is  a  treatment  I  will  bear  from  no  man  alive! 
My  servants  will  attend  you  to  the  door,  sir!  "  Saying 
which,  and  rustling  in  his  brocade  dressing-gown,  Mr. 
Warrington,  with  much  state,  walked  off  to  his  bed- 
room. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 


CONTAINS   WHAT   MIGHT,   PERHAPS,    HAVE   BEEN 

EXPECTED 

N  the  rejection  of  his 
Lce-ofFerings,  our  war- 
like young  Amer- 
ican chief  chose 
to  be  in  great 
wrath  not  only 
against  Colonel 
Lambert,  but 
the  whole  of 
thatgentleman's 
family.  "He 
has  humiliated 
me  before  the 
Is  I"  thought  the 
young  man.  **  He  and 
Mr.  Wolfe,  who  were  for  ever  preaching  morality  to 
me,  and  giving  themselves  airs  of  superiority  and  pro- 
tection, have  again  been  holding  me  up  to  the  family  as 
a  scapegrace  and  prodigal.  They  are  so  virtuous  that 
they  won't  shake  me  by  the  hand,  forsooth ;  and  when  I 
want  to  show  them  a  little  common  gratitude,  they  fling 
my  presents  in  my  face  I  " 

"  Why,  sir,  the  things  must  be  worth  a  little  fortune  I  " 
says  Parson  Sampson,  casting  an  eye  of  covetousness 


570  THE  VIRGINIANS 

on  the  two  morocco  boxes,  in  which,  on  their  white  satin 
cushions,  reposed  JNIr.  Sparks's  golden  gewgaws. 

"  They  cost  me  some  money,  Sampson,"  says  the 
young  man.  "  Not  that  I  would  grudge  ten  times  the 
amount  to  people  who  have  been  kind  to  me." 

"  No,  faith,  sir,  not  if  I  know  your  honour! "  inter- 
jects Sampson,  who  never  lost  a  chance  of  praising  his 
young  patron  to  his  face. 

"  The  repeater,  they  told  me,  was  a  great  bargain,  and 
worth  a  hundred  pounds  at  Paris.  Little  Miss  Hetty 
I  remember  saying  that  she  longed  to  have  a  repeating 
watch." 

"Oh,  what  a  love!"  cries  the  Chaplain.  "With  a 
little  circle  of  pearls  on  the  back,  and  a  diamond  knob 
for  the  handle !  Why,  'twould  win  any  woman's  heart, 
sir! 

"  There  passes  an  apple-woman  with  a  basket.  I 
have  a  mind  to  fling  the  thing  out  to  her!"  cries  Mr. 
Warrington,  fiercely. 

When  Harry  went  out  upon  business,  which  took  him 
to  the  City  and  the  Temple,  his  parasite  did  not  follow 
him  very  far  into  the  Strand ;  but  turned  away,  owning 
that  he  had  a  terror  of  Chancery  Lane,  its  inhabitants, 
and  precincts.  Mr.  Warrington  went  then  to  his  broker, 
and  they  walked  to  the  Bank  together,  where  they  did 
some  little  business,  at  the  end  of  which,  and  after  the 
signing  of  a  trifling  signature  or  two,  Harry  departed 
with  a  certain  number  of  crisp  bank-notes  in  his  pocket. 
The  broker  took  Mr.  Warrington  to  one  of  the  great 
dining-houses  for  which  the  City  was  famous  then  as 
now ;  and  afterwards  showed  Mr.  Warrington  the  Vir- 
ginia walk  upon  'Change,  through  which  Harry  passed 
rather  shamefacedly.     What  would  a  certain  lady  in 


THE  VIRGINIANS  571 

Virginia  say,  he  thought,  if  she  knew  that  he  was  carry- 
ing off  in  that  bottomless  gambler's  pocket  a  great  por- 
tion of  his  father's  patrimony?  Those  are  all  Virginia 
merchants,  thinks  he,  and  they  are  all  talking  to  one 
another  about  me,  and  all  saying,  "  That  is  young 
Esmond,  of  Castlewood,  on  the  Potomac,  Madam  Es- 
mond's son;  and  he  has  been  losing  his  money  at  play, 
and  he  has  been  selling  out  so  much,  and  so  much,  and 
so  much." 

His  spirits  did  not  rise  until  he  had  passed  under  the 
traitors'  heads  of  Temple  Bar,  and  was  fairly  out  of 
the  City.  From  the  Strand  Mr.  Harry  walked  home, 
looking  in  at  St.  James's  Street  by  the  way;  but  there 
was  nobody  there  as  yet,  the  company  not  coming  to  the 
Chocolate  House  till  a  later  hour. 

Arrived  at  home,  Mr.  Harry  pulls  out  his  bundle  of 
bank-notes;  puts  three  of  them  into  a  sheet  of  paper, 
which  he  seals  carefully,  having  previously  written 
within  the  sheet  the  words,  "  Much  good  may  they  do 
you.  H.  E.  W."  And  this  packet  he  directs  to  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Sampson, — leaving  it  on  the  chimney- 
glass,  with  directions  to  his  servants  to  give  it  to  that 
divine  when  he  should  come  in. 

And  now  his  honour's  phaeton  is  brouglit  to  the  door, 
and  he  steps  in,  thinking  to  drive  round  the  park;  but 
the  rain  coming  on,  or  the  east  wind  blowing,  or  some 
other  reason  arising,  his  honour  turns  liis  horses'  heads 
down  St.  James's  Street,  and  is  back  at  White's  at  about 
three  o'clock.  Scarce  anybody  has  come  in  yet.  It  is  the 
hour  when  folks  are  at  dinner.  There,  liowever,  is  my 
cousin  Castlev/ood,  lounging  over  the  Public  Advertise?', 
having  just  come  off  from  his  duty  at  Court  hard  by. 

Lord  Castlewood  is  yawning  over  tlie  Public  jldvcr- 


572  THE  VIRGINIANS 

User,  What  shall  they  do  ?  Shall  they  have  a  little  pic- 
quet?  Harry  has  no  objection  to  a  little  picquet.  "  Just 
for  an  hour,"  says  Lord  Castlewood.  "  I  dine  at  Arling- 
ton Street  at  four."  "  Just  for  an  hour,"  says  Mr. 
Warrington;   and  they  call  for  cards. 

"  Or  shall  we  have  'em  in  up  stairs?  "  says  my  lord. 
"Out  of  the  noise?" 

"  Certainly,  out  of  the  noise,"  says  Harry. 

At  five  o'clock  a  half-dozen  of  gentlemen  have  come 
in  after  their  dinner,  and  are  at  cards,  or  coffee,  or  talk. 
The  folks  from  the  ordinary  have  not  left  the  table  yet. 
There  the  gentlemen  of  White's  will  often  sit  till  past 
midnight. 

One  toothpick  points  over  the  coffee-house  blinds  into 
the  street.  "Whose  phaeton?"  asks  Toothpick  1  of 
Toothpick  2. 

"  The  Fortunate  Youth's,"  says  No.  2. 

"  Not  so  fortunate  the  last  three  nights.  Luck  con- 
foundedly against  him.  Lost,  last  night,  thirteen  hun- 
dred to  the  table.  Mr.  Warrington  been  here  to-day, 
John?" 

"  Mr.  Warrington  is  in  the  house  now,  sir.  In  the 
little  tea-room  with  Lord  Castlewood  since  three  o'clock. 
They  are  playing  at  picquet,"  says  John. 

"  What  fun  for  Castlewood,"  says  No.  1,  with  a 
shrug. 

The  second  gentleman  growls  out  an  execration. 
"  Curse  the  fellow!  "  he  says.  "  He  has  no  right  to  be 
in  this  club  at  all.  He  doesn't  pay  if  he  loses.  Gentle- 
men ought  not  to  play  with  him.  Sir  Miles  Warrington 
told  me  at  Court  the  other  day,  that  Castlewood  has 
owed  him  money  on  a  bet  these  three  years." 

"  Castlewood,"  says  No.  1,  "  don't  lose  if  he  plays 


THE  VIRGINIANS  573 

alone.  A  large  company  flurries  him,  you  see — that's 
'j^'hy  he  doesn't  come  to  the  table."  And  the  facetious 
gentleman  grins,  and  shows  all  his  teeth,  polished  per- 
fectly clean. 

"  Let's  go  up  and  stop  'em,"  growls  No.  2. 

"Why?"  asks  the  other.  "Much  better  look  out 
a-window\  Lamplighter  going  up  the  ladder — famous 
sport.  Look  at  that  old  putt  in  the  chair:  did  you  ever 
see  such  an  old  quiz? " 

"  Who  is  that  just  gone  out  of  the  house?  As  I  live, 
it's  Fortunatus!  He  seems  to  have  forgotten  that  his 
phaeton  has  been  here,  waiting  all  the  time.  I  bet  you 
two  to  one  he  has  been  losing  to  Castlewood." 

"  Jack,  do  you  take  me  to  be  a  fool?  "  asks  the  one 
gentleman  of  the  other.  "  Pretty  pair  of  horses  the 
youth  has  got.  How  he  is  flogging  'em!"  And  they 
see  Mr.  Warrington  galloping  up  the  street,  and  scared 
coachmen  and  chairmen  clearing  before  him:  presently 
my  Lord  Castlewood  is  seen  to  enter  a  chair,  and  go  his 
way. 

Harry  drives  up  to  his  own  door.  It  was  but  a 
few  yards,  and  those  poor  horses  have  been  beating  the 
pavement  all  this  while  in  the  rain.  Mr.  Gumbo  is 
engaged  at  the  door  in  conversation  with  a  country- 
fied-looking  lass,  who  trips  off  with  a  curtsey.  Mr. 
Gumbo  is  always  engaged  with  some  pretty  maid  or 
other. 

"  Gumbo,  has  Mr.  Sampson  been  here?"  asks  Gum- 
bo's master  from  his  driving  seat. 

"No,  sar.  Mr.  Sampson  have  not  been  here!"  an- 
swers Mr.  Warrington's  gentleman.  Harry  bids  him 
to  go  up  stairs  and  bring  down  a  letter  addressed  to 
Mr.  Sampson. 


574  THE   VIRGINIANS 

"Addressed  to  Mr.  Sampson?  Oh,  yes,  sar,"  says 
]Mr.  Gumbo,  who  can't  read. 

"A  sealed  letter,  stupid!  on  the  mantelpiece,  in  the 
glass ! "  says  Harry ;  and  Gumbo  leisurely  retires  to 
fetch  that  document.  As  soon  as  Ilarry  has  it,  he  turns 
his  horses'  heads  towards  St.  James's  Street,  and  the 
two  gentlemen,  still  yawning  out  of  the  window  at 
White's,  behold  the  Fortunate  Youth,  in  an  instant, 
back  again. 

As  they  passed  out  of  the  little  tea-room  where  he 
and  Lord  Castlewood  had  had  their  picquet  together, 
Mr.  Warrington  had  seen  that  several  gentlemen  had 
entered  the  play-room,  and  that  there  was  a  bank  there. 
Some  were  already  steadily  at  work,  and  had  their  gam- 
ing jackets  on:  they  kept  such  coats  at  the  club,  which 
they  put  on  when  they  had  a  mind  to  sit  down  to  a  regu- 
lar night's  play. 

Mr.  Warrington  goes  to  the  clerk's  desk,  pays  his 
account  of  the  previous  night,  and,  sitting  down  at  the 
table,  calls  for  fresh  counters.  This  has  been  decidedly 
an  unlucky  week  with  the  Fortunate  Youth,  and  to- 
night is  no  more  fortunate  than  j)revious  nights  have 
been.  He  calls  for  more  counters,  and  more  presently. 
He  is  a  little  pale  and  silent,  though  very  easy  and  po- 
lite when  talked  to.    But  he  cannot  win. 

At  last  he  gets  up.  "  Hang  it!  stay  and  mend  your 
luck!  "  says  Lord  March,  who  is  sitting  by  his  side  with 
a  heap  of  counters  before  him,  green  and  white.  "  Take 
a  hundred  of  mine,  and  go  on!  " 

"  I  have  had  enough  for  to-night,  my  lord,"  says 
Harry,  and  rises  and  goes  away,  and  eats  a  broiled  bone 
in  the  coffee-room,  and  walks  back  to  his  lodgings  some 
time  about  midnight.    A  man  after  a  great  catastrophe 


THE  VIRGINIANS  575 

commonly  sleeps  very  well.  It  is  the  waking  in  the 
jjiorning  which  is  sometimes  queer  and  unpleasant.  Last 
night  you  proposed  to  Miss  Brown:  you  quarrelled 
over  your  cups  with  Captain  Jones,  and  valorously 
pulled  his  nose:  you  played  at  cards  with  Colonel  Rob- 
inson, and  gave  him — oh,  how  many  I  O  U's!  These 
thoughts,  with  a  fine  headache,  assail  you  in  the  morn- 
ing watches.  What  a  dreary,  dreary  gulf  between  to- 
day and  yesterday!  It  seems  as  if  you  are  years  older. 
Can't  you  leap  back  over  that  chasm  again,  and  is  it 
not  possible  that  Yesterday  is  but  a  dream  ?  There  you 
are,  in  bed.  No  daylight  in  at  the  windows  yet.  Pull 
3"our  nightcap  over  your  eyes,  the  blankets  over  your 
nose,  and  sleep  away  Yesterday.  Psha,  man,  it  was  but 
a  dream!  Oh  no,  no!  The  sleep  won't  come.  The 
watchman  bawls  some  hour — what  hour?  Harry  minds 
him  that  he  has  got  the  repeating  watch  under  his  pil- 
low which  he  had  bought  for  Hester.  Ting,  ting,  ting ! 
the  repeating  watch  sings  out  six  times  in  the  darkness, 
with  a  little  supplementary  performance  indicating  the 
half  hour.  Poor  dear  little  Hester!— so  bright,  so  gay, 
so  innocent !  he  would  have  liked  her  to  have  that  watch. 
What  will  Maria  say?  (Oh,  that  old  Maria!  what  a 
bore  she  is  beginning  to  be!  he  thinks.)  What  will 
Madam  Esmond  at  home  say  when  she  hears  that  he 
has  lost  every  shilling  of  his  ready  money — of  his  patri- 
mony? All  his  winnings,  and  five  thousand  pounds  be- 
sides, in  three  nights.  Castlewood  could  not  have  played 
him  false?  No.  My  lord  knows  picquet  better  than 
Harry  does,  but  he  would  not  deal  unfairly  with  his 
own  flesh  and  blood.  No,  no.  Harry  is  glad  his  kins- 
man, who  wanted  the  money,  has  got  it.  And  for 
not  one  more  shilling  than  he  possessed,  would  he  play. 


57G  THE  VIRGINIANS 

It  was  when  he  counted  up  his  losses  at  the  gam- 
ing-table, and  found  they  would  cover  all  the  re- 
mainder of  his  patrimony,  that  he  passed  the  box  and 
left  the  table.  But,  O  cursed  bad  company!  O  ex- 
travagance and  folly!  O  humiliation  and  remorse! 
"  Will  my  mother  at  home  forgive  me?  "  thinks  the 
young  prodigal.  "  Oh,  that  I  were  there,  and  had  never 
left  it!" 

The  dreary  London  dawn  peeps  at  length  through 
shutters  and  curtains.  The  housemaid  enters  to  light  his 
honour's  fire  and  admit  the  dun  morning  into  his  win- 
dows. Her  Mr.  Gumbo  presently  follows,  who  warms 
his  master's  dressing-gown  and  sets  out  his  shaving- 
plate  and  linen.  Then  arrives  the  hairdresser  to  curl  and 
powder  his  honour,  whilst  he  reads  his  morning's  letters ; 
and  at  breakfast-time  comes  that  inevitable  Parson 
Sampson,  with  eager  looks  and  servile  smiles,  to  wait 
on  his  patron.  The  parson  would  have  returned  yes- 
terday according  to  mutual  agreement,  but  some  jolly 
fellows  kept  him  to  dinner  at  the  "  St.  Alban's,"  and, 
faith,  they  made  a  night  of  it. 

"Oh,  Parson!"  groans  Harry,  "'twas  the  worst 
night  you  ever  made  in  your  life!    Look  here,  sir! " 

"  Here  is  a  broken  envelope  with  the  words,  '  Much 
good  may  it  do  you,'  written  within,"  says  the  Chaplain, 
glancing  at  the  paper. 

"Look  on  the  outside^  sir!"  cries  Mr.  Warrington. 
"  The  paper  was  directed  to  you."  The  poor  Chaplain's 
countenance  exhibited  great  alarm.  "  Has  some  one 
broke  it  open,  sir?  "  he  asks. 

"  Some  one,  yes.  I  broke  it  open,  Sampson.  Had 
you  come  here  as  you  proposed  yesterday  afternoon, 
you  would  have  found  that  envelope  full  of  bank-notes. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  577 

As  it  is,  they  were  all  dropped  at  the  infernal  macco- 
J^ble  last  niffht." 

"  What,  all?  "  says  Sampson. 

"  Yes,  all,  with  all  the  money  I  brought  away  from 
the  city,  and  all  the  ready  money  I  have  left  in  the 
world.  In  the  afternoon  I  played  picquet  with  my 
cous— with  a  gentleman  at  White's— and  he  eased  me  of 
all  the  money  I  had  about  me.  Remembering  that  there 
was  still  some  money  left  here,  unless  you  had  feteked 
it,  I  came  home  and  carried  it  back  and  left  it  at  the 
macco-table,  with  every  shilling  besides  that  belongs  to 
me— and— great  heaven,  Sampson,  what's  the  matter, 


man 


? " 


It's  my  luck,  it's  my  usual  luck,"  cries  out  the.  un- 
fortunate Chaplain,  and  fairly  bursts  into  tears. 

"  What!  You  are  not  whimpering  like  a  baby  at  the 
loss  of  a  loan  of  a  couple  of  hundred  pounds?  "  cries  out 
]Mr.  Warrington,  very  fierce  and  angry.  "  Leave  the 
room,  Gumbo!  Confound  you!  why  are  you  always 
poking  your  woolly  head  in  at  that  door?  " 

"  Some  one  below  wants  to  see  Master  with  a  little 
bill,"  says  Mr.  Gumbo. 

"  Tell  him  to  go  to  Jericho!  "  roars  out  Mr.  Warring- 
ton. "  Let  me  see  nobody!  I  am  not  at  home,  sir,  at 
this  hour  of  the  morning!  " 

A  murmur  or  two,  a  scuffle  is  heard  on  the  landing- 
place,  and  silence  finally  ensues.  Mr.  Warrington's 
scorn  and  anger  are  not  diminished  by  this  altercation. 
He  turns  round  savagely  upon  unhappy  Sampson,  who 
sits  with  his  head  buried  in  his  breast. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  take  a  bumper  of  brandy  to  keep 
your  spirits  up,  Mr.  Sampson?"  he  asks.  "Hang  it, 
man!  don't  be  snivelling  like  a  woman!  " 


578  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"Oh,  it's  not  me!"  says  Sampson,  tossing  his  head. 
"  I  am  used  to  it,  sir." 

"  Not  you!  Who,  then?  Are  you  crying  because 
somebody  else  is  hurt,  pray?  "  asks  INIr.  Warrington. 

"  Yes,  sir!  "  says  the  Chaplain,  with  some  spirit;  "  be- 
cause somebod}^  else  is  hurt,  and  through  my  fault.  I 
have  lodged  for  many  years  in  London  with  a  boot- 
maker, a  very  honest  man:  and,  a  few  days  since,  hav- 
ing a  perfect  reliance  upon — upon  a  friend  who  had 
promised  to  accommodate  me  with  a  loan — I  borrowed 
sixty  pounds  from  my  landlord  which  he  was  about  to 
pay  to  his  own.  I  can't  get  the  money.  My  poor  land- 
lord's goods  will  be  seized  for  rent;  his  wife  and  dear 
young  children  will  be  turned  into  the  street;  and  this 
honest  family  will  be  ruined  through  my  fault.  But,  as 
you  say,  Mr.  Warrington,  I  ought  not  to  snivel  like  a 
woman.  I  will  remember  that  you  helped  me  once,  and 
will  bid  you  farewell,  sir." 

And,  taking  his  broad-leafed  hat,  Mr.  Chaplain 
walked  out  of  the  room. 

An  execration  and  a  savage  laugh,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
burst  out  of  Harry's  lips  at  this  sudden  movement  of 
the  Chaplain's.  He  was  in  such  a  passion  with  himself, 
with  circumstances,  with  all  people  round  about  him, 
that  he  scarce  knew  where  to  turn,  or  what  he  said. 
Sampson  heard  the  savage  laughter,  and  then  the  voice 
of  Harry  calling  from  the  stairs,  "  Sampson,  Sampson! 
hang  you!  come  back!  It's  a  mistake!  I  beg  your 
pardon!"  But  the  Chaplain  was  cut  to  the  soul,  and 
walked  on.  Harry  heard  the  door  of  the  street  as  the 
Parson  slammed  it.  It  thumped  on  his  own  breast.  He 
entered  his  room,  and  sank  back  on  his  luxurious  chair 
there.     He  was  Prodigal,  amongst  the  swine— his  foul 


THE  VIRGINIANS  579 

remorses ;  they  had  tripped  him  up,  and  were  wallowing 
over  him.  Gambling,  extravagance,  debauchery,  disso- 
lute life,  reckless  companions,  dangerous  women — they 
were  all  upon  him  in  a  herd,  and  were  trampling  upon 
the  prostrate  young  sinner. 

Prodigal  was  not,  however,  yet  utterly  overcome,  and 
had  some  fight  left  in  him.  Dashing  the  filthy  impor- 
tunate brutes  aside,  and,  as  it  were,  kicking  his  ugly 
remembrances  away  from  him,  Mr.  Warrington  seized 
a  great  glass  of  that  fire-water  which  he  had  recom- 
mended to  poor  humiliated  Parson  Sampson,  and  fling- 
ing ofl*  his  fine  damask  robe,  rang  for  the  trembling 
Gumbo,  and  ordered  his  coat.  "Not  that!"  roars  he, 
as  Gumbo  brings  him  a  fine  green  coat  with  plated  but- 
tons and  a  gold  cord.  "  A  plain  suit — the  plainer  the 
better!  The  black  clothes."  And  Gumbo  brings  the 
mourning-coat  which  his  master  had  discarded  for  some 
months  past. 

Mr.  Harry  then  takes:  —  1,  his  fine  new  gold  watch; 
2,  his  repeater  (that  which  he  had  bought  for  Hetty), 
which  he  puts  into  his  other  fob;  3,  his  necklace,  which 
he  had  purchased  for  Theo ;  4,  his  rings,  of  which  my 
gentleman  must  have  half-a-dozen  at  least  (with  the  ex- 
ception of  his  grandfather's  old  seal  ring,  which  he 
kisses  and  lays  down  on  the  pincushion  again)  ;  5,  his 
three  gold  snuffboxes;  and  6,  his  purse,  knitted  by  his 
mother,  and  containing  three  shillings  and  sixpence  and 
a  pocket-piece  brought  from  Virginia:  and  putting  on 
his  hat,  issues  from  his  door. 

At  the  landing  he  is  met  by  Mr.  RufF,  his  landlord, 
who  bows  and  cringes  and  puts  into  his  honour's  hand 
a  strip  of  paper  a  yard  long.  "  Much  ol^liged  if  Mr. 
Warrington  will  settle.    Mrs.  RufF  has  a  large  account 


580  THE  VIRGINIANS 

to  make  up  to-day."  Mrs.  RufF  is  a  milliner.  Mr.  RufF 
is  one  of  the  head-waiters  and  aides-de-camp  of  Mr. 
JNIackreth,  the  proprietor  of  White's  Club.  The  sight 
of  the  landlord  does  not  add  to  the  lodger's  good  hu- 
mour. 

"  Perhaps  his  honour  will  have  the  kindness  to  settle 
the  little  account?  "  asks  Mr.  Ruff. 

"  Of  course  I  will  settle  the  account,"  says  Harry, 
glumly  looking  down  over  Mr.  Ruff's  head  from  the 
stair  above  him. 

"  Perhaps  Mr.  Warrington  will  settle  it  now?  " 

"No,  sir,  I  will  not  settle  it  now!"  says  Mr.  War- 
rington, bullying  forward. 

"  I'm  very— very  much  in  want  of  money,  sir,"  pleads 
the  voice  under  him.     "  Mrs.  RufF  is — " 

"Hang  you,  sir,  get  out  of  the  way!"  cries  Mr. 
Warrington,  ferociously,  and  driving  Mr.  RufF  back- 
ward to  the  wall,  sending  him  almost  topsy-turvy  down 
his  own  landing,  he  tramps  down  the  stair,  and  walks 
forth  into  Bond  Street. 

The  Guards  were  at  exercise  at  the  King's  Mews  at 
Charing  Cross,  as  Harry  passed,  and  he  heard  their 
drums  and  fifes,  and  looked  in  at  the  gate,  and  saw  them 
at  drill.  "  I  can  shoulder  a  musket  at  any  rate,"  thought 
he  to  himself  gloomily,  as  he  strode  on.  He  crossed 
St.  Martin's  Lane  (where  he  transacted  some  business), 
and  so  made  his  way  into  Long  Acre,  and  to  the  boot- 
maker's house  where  friend  Sampson  lodged.  The 
woman  of  the  house  said  Mr.  Sampson  was  not  at  home, 
but  had  promised  to  be  at  home  at  one;  and,  as  she 
knew  Mr.  Warrington,  showed  him  up  to  the  Parson's 
apartments,  where  he  sat  down,  and,  for  want  of  occu- 
pation, tried  to  read  an  unfinished  sermon  of  the  Chap- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  581 

Iain's.  The  subject  was  the  Prodigal  Son.  Mr.  Harry 
•did  not  take  very  accurate  cognisance  of  the  sermon. 

Presently  he  heard  the  landlady's  shrill  voice  on  the 
stair,  pursuing  somebody  who  ascended,  and  Sampson 
rushed  into  the  room,  followed  by  the  sobbing  woman. 

At  seeing  Harry,  Sampson  started,  and  the  land- 
lady stopped.  Absorbed  in  her  own  domestic  cares,  she 
had  doubtless  forgot  that  a  visitor  was  awaiting  her 
lodger.  "  There's  only  thirteen  pound  in  the  house,  and 
he  will  be  here  at  one,  I  tell  you!  "  she  was  bawling  out, 
as  she  pursued  her  victim. 

"  Hush,  hush!  my  good  creature!  "  cries  the  gasping 
Chaplain,  pointing  to  Harry,  who  rose  from  the  win- 
dow-seat. "  Don't  you  see  Mr.  Warrington?  I've  busi- 
ness with  him — most  important  business.  It  will  be  all 
right,  I  tell  you!"  And  he  soothed  and  coaxed  Mrs. 
Landlady  out  of  the  room,  with  the  crowd  of  anxious 
little  ones  hanging  at  her  coats. 

"  Sampson,  I  have  come  to  ask  your  pardon  again," 
says  Mr.  Warrington,  rising  up.  "  What  I  said  to-day 
to  you  was  very  cruel  and  unjust,  and  unlike  a  gentle- 
man." 

"  Not  a  word  more,  sir,"  says  the  other,  coldly  and 
sadly,  bowing  and  scarcely  pressing  the  hand  which 
Harry  offered  him. 

"  I  see  you  are  still  angry  with  me,"  Harry  continues. 

"  Nay,  sir,  an  apology  is  an  apology.  A  man  of  my 
station  can  ask  for  no  more  from  one  of  yours.  No 
doubt  you  did  not  mean  to  give  me  pain.  And  what  if 
you  did?  And  you  are  not  tlie  only  one  of  the  family 
who  has,"  he  said,  as  he  looked  piteously  round  the 
room.  "  I  wish  T  had  never  known  the  name  of  Es- 
mond or  Castlewood,"  he  coritiiiues,  "  or  that  place  yon- 


582  THE  VIRGINIANS 

der  of  which  the  picture  hangs  over  my  fireplace, 
and  where  I  have  buried  myself  these  long,  long  years. 
My  lord,  your  cousin,  took  a  fancy  to  me,  said  he 
would  make  my  fortune,  has  kept  me  as  his  de- 
pendant till  fortune  has  passed  by  me,  and  now  refuses 
me  my  due." 

"  How  do  you  mean  your  due,  Mr.  Sampson? "  asks 
Harry. 

"  I  mean  three  years'  salary  which  he  owes  me  as 
Chaplain  of  Castlewood.  Seeing  you  could  give  me 
no  money,  I  went  to  his  lordship  this  morning,  and  asked 
him.  I  fell  on  my  knees,  and  asked  him,  sir.  But  his 
lordship  had  none.  He  gave  me  civil  words,  at  least 
(saving  your  presence,  Mr.  Warrington),  but  no  mo- 
ney— that  is,  five  guineas,  which  he  declared  was  all 
he  had,  and  which  I  took.  But  what  are  five  guineas 
amongst  so  many?  Oh,  those  poor  little  children!  those 
poor  little  children!  " 

"  Lord  Castlewood  said  he  had  no  money? "  cries  out 
Harry.  "  He  won  eleven  hundred  pounds,  yesterday, 
of  me  at  picquet — which  I  paid  him  out  of  this  pocket- 
book." 

"  I  dare  say,  sir— I  dare  say,  sir.  One  can't  believe 
a  word  his  lordship  says,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Sampson;  "  but 
I  am  thinking  of  execution  in  this  house  and  ruin  upon 
these  poor  folks  to-morrow." 

"  That  need  not  happen,"  says  Mr.  Warrington. 
"  Here  are  eighty  guineas,  Sampson.  As  far  as  they 
go,  God  help  you!  'Tis  all  I  have  to  give  you.  I  wish 
to  my  heart  I  could  give  more  as  I  promised ;  but  you 
did  not  come  at  the  right  time,  and  I  am  a  poor  devil 
now  until  I  get  my  remittances  from  Virginia." 

The  Chaplain  gave  a  wild  look  of  surprise,  and  turned 


THE  VIRGINIANS  583 

quite  white.  He  flung  himself  down  on  his  knees  and 
seized  Harry's  hand. 

"  Great  powers,  sir!  "  says  he,  "  are  you  a  guardian 
angel  that  heaven  hath  sent  me?  You  quarrelled  with 
my  tears  this  morning,  Mr.  Warrington.  I  can't  help 
them  now.  They  burst,  sir,  from  a  grateful  heart.  A 
rock  of  stone  would  pour  them  forth,  sir,  before  such 
goodness  as  yours!  May  heaven  eternally  bless  you, 
and  give  you  prosperity!  May  my  unworthy  prayers 
be  heard  in  your  behalf,  my  friend,  my  best  benefactor ! 
May-" 

"  Nay,  nay!  get  up,  friend— get  up,  Sampson!  "  says 
Harry,  whom  the  Chaplain's  adulation  and  fine  phrases 
rather  annoyed.  "  I  am  glad  to  have  been  able  to  do 
you  a  service— sincerely  glad.  There— there!  Don't 
be  on  your  knees  to  me!  " 

"  To  heaven  who  sent  you  to  me,  sir!  "  cries  the  Chap- 
lain.   "Mrs.  Weston!  Mrs.  Weston!" 

"  What  is  it,  sir?  "  says  the  landlady  instantly,  who, 
indeed,  had  been  at  the  door  the  whole  time.  "  We  are 
saved,  Mrs.  Weston !  We  are  saved !  "  cries  the  Chap- 
lain. "  Kneel,  kneel,  woman,  and  thank  our  benefactor! 
Raise  your  innocent  voices,  children,  and  bless  him!" 
A  universal  whimper  arose  round  Harry,  which  the 
Chaplain  led  off,  whilst  the  young  Virginian  stood,  sim- 
pering and  well  pleased,  in  the  midst  of  this  congrega- 
tion. They  would  worship,  do  what  he  might.  One  of 
the  children,  not  understanding  tlie  kneeling  order,  and 
standing  up,  the  motlicr  fetched  her  a  slap  on  the  ear, 
crying,  "  13rat  it,  Jane,  kneel  down,  and  bless  the  gen- 
tleman, I  tell  'ee!  "  .  .  .  We  leave  them  performing  this 
sweet  benedictory  service.  Mr.  Harry  walks  off  from 
Long  Acre,  forgetting  almost  the  griefs  of  the  former 


584  THE  VIRGINIANS 

four  or  five  days,  and  tingling  with  the  consciousness  of 
having  done  a  good  action. 

The  young  woman  with  whom  Gumbo  had  been  con- 
versing on  that  evening  when  Harry  drove  up  from 
White's  to  his  lodging,  was  Mrs.  Molly,  from  Oakhurst, 
the  attendant  of  the  ladies  there.  Wherever  that  fas- 
cinating Gumbo  went,  he  left  friends  and  admirers  in 
the  servants'-hall.  I  think  we  said  it  was  on  a  Wednes- 
day evening  he  and  Mrs.  Molly  had  fetched  a  walk 
together,  and  they  were  performing  the  amiable  cour- 
tesies incident  upon  parting,  when  Gumbo's  master 
came  up,  and  put  an  end  to  their  twilight  whisperings 
and  what  not. 

For  many  hours  on  Wednesday,  on  Thursday,  on 
Friday,  a  pale  little  maiden  sat  at  a  window  in  Lord 
Wrotham's  house,  in  Hill  Street,  her  mother  and  sister 
wistfully  watching  her.  She  would  not  go  out.  They 
knew  whom  she  was  expecting.  He  passed  the  door 
once,  and  she  might  have  thought  he  was  coming,  but 
he  did  not.  He  went  into  a  neighbouring  house.  Papa 
had  never  told  the  girls  of  the  presents  which  Harry  had 
sent,  and  only  whispered  a  word  or  two  to  their  mother 
regarding  his  quarrel  with  the  young  Virginian. 

On  Saturday  night  there  was  an  opera  of  Mr.  Han- 
del's, and  papa  brought  home  tickets  for  the  gallery. 
Hetty  went  this  evening.  The  change  would  do  her 
good,  Theo  thought,  and— and,  perhaps  there  might  be 
Somebody  amongst  the  fine  company;  but  Somebody 
was  not  there ;  and  Mr.  Handel's  fine  music  fell  blank 
upon  the  poor  child.  It  might  have  been  Signor  Bonon- 
cini's,  and  she  would  have  scarce  known  the  difference. 

As  the  children  are  undressing,  and  taking  off  those 


THE  VIRGINIANS  585 

smart  new  satin  sacks  in  which  they  appeared  at  the 
,Opera,  looking  so  fresh  and  so  prettj^  amongst  all  the 
tawdry  rouged  folk,  Theo  remarks  how  very  sad  and 
wobegone  Mrs.  INIolly,  their  maid,  appears.  Theo  is 
always  anxious  when  other  people  seem  in  trouble;  not 
so  Hetty,  now,  who  is  suffering,  poor  thing,  from  one 
of  the  most  selfish  maladies  which  ever  visits  mortals. 
Have  you  ever  been  amongst  insane  people,  and  re- 
marked how  they  never,  never  think  of  any  but  them- 
selves ? 

"  What  is  the  matter,  ^lolly?  "  asks  kind  Theo:  and, 
indeed,  Molly  has  been  longing  to  tell  her  young  ladies. 
"  Oh,  Miss  Theo!  Oh,  Miss  Hetty!  "  she  says.  "  How 
ever  can  I  tell  you?  ]Mr.  Gumbo  have  been  here,  Mr. 
Warrington's  coloured  gentleman,  Miss;  and  he  says 
Mr.  Warrington  have  been  took  by  two  bailiffs  this 
evening,  as  he  comes  out  of  Sir  Miles  Warrington's 
house,  three  doors  off." 

"  Silence!  "  cries  Theo,  quite  sternly.  Who  is  it  that 
gives  those  three  shrieks  ?  It  is  Mrs.  Molly,  who  chooses 
to  scream,  because  Miss  Hetty  has  fallen  fainting  from 
her  chair. 


CHAPTER  XLV 


IN   WHICH    HARRY   FINDS   TWO   UNCLES 


E  have  all  of  us,  no 
doubt,  had  a  fine 
experience  of  the 
world,  and  a  vast 
variety  of  charac- 
ters have  passed 
under  our  eyes ; 
but  there  is  one 
sort  of  men — not 
an  uncommon  ob- 
ject of  satire  in 
novels  and  plays 
— of  whom  I  con- 
fess to  have  met 
with  scarce  any 
specimens  at  all  in 
my  intercourse  with  this  sinful  mankind.  I  mean, 
mere  religious  hypocrites,  preaching  for  ever,  and  not 
believing  a  word  of  their  own  sermons;  infidels  in 
broad  brims  and  sables,  expounding,  exhorting,  commi- 
nating,  blessing,  without  any  faith  in  their  own  para- 
dise, or  fear  about  their  pandemonium.  Look  at  those 
candid  troops  of  hobnails  clumping  to  church  on  a  Sun- 
day, evening ;  those  rustling  maid-servants  in  their  rib- 
bons whom  the  young  apprentices  follow;  those  little 
regiments  of  schoolboys ;  those  trim  young  maidens  and 

586 


THE  VIRGINIANS  587 

staid  matrons,  marching  with  their  glistening  prayer- 
books,  as  the  chapel  bell  chinks  yonder  (passing  Ebene- 
'^er,  very  likely,  where  the  congregation  of  umbrellas, 
great  bonnets,  and  pattens,  is  by  this  tune  assembled 
mider  the  flaring  gas-lamps).  Look  at  those!  How 
man}^  of  them  are  hypocrites,  think  you?  Very  likely 
the  maid-servant  is  thinking  of  her  sweetheart:  the 
grocer  is  casting  about  how  he  can  buy  that  parcel  of 
sugar,  and  whether  the  County  Bank  will  take  any 
more  of  his  paper :  the  head-schoolboy  is  conning  Latin 
verses  for  IMonday's  exercise:  the  young  scapegrace 
remembers  that  after  this  service  and  sermon,  there  will 
be  papa's  exposition  at  home,  but  that  there  will  be  pie 
for  supper:  the  clerk  who  calls  out  the  psalm  has  his 
daughter  in  trouble,  and  drones  through  his  responses 
scarcely  aware  of  their  meaning:  the  very  moment  the 
parson  hides  his  face  on  his  cushion,  he  may  be  thinking 
of  that  bill  which  is  coming  due  on  JNIonday.  These  peo- 
ple are  not  heavenly-minded;  they  are  of  the  world, 
worldly,  and  have  not  yet  got  their  feet  off  of  it ;  but  they 
are  not  hypocrites,  look  you.  Folks  have  their  religion 
in  some  handy  mental  lock-up,  as  it  were,  —  a  valuable 
medicine,  to  be  taken  in  ill  healtli;  and  a  man  adminis- 
ters his  nostrum  to  his  neighbour,  and  recommends  his 
private  cure  for  the  other's  complaint.  "  My  dear 
Madam,  you  have  spasms?  You  will  find  these  drops 
infallible!"  "You  have  been  taking  too  much  wine, 
my  good  sir?  By  this  pill  you  may  defy  any  evil  conse- 
quences from  too  much  wine,  and  take  your  bottle  of 
port  daily."  Of  spiritual  and  bodily  physic,  who  are 
more  fond  and  eager  dispensers  than  women?  And 
we  know  that,  especially  a  hundred  years  ago,  every  lady 
in  the  country  had  her  still-room,  and  her  medicine- 


588  THE  VIRGINIANS 

chest,  her  jdIIIs,  powders,  potions,  for  all  the  village 
round. 

My  Lady  Warrington  took  charge  of  the  consciences 
and  the  digestions  of  her  hushand's  tenants  and  family. 
She  had  the  faith  and  health  of  the  servants'-hall  in 
keeping.  Heaven  can  tell  whether  she  knew  how  to 
doctor  them  rightly:  but,  was  it  pill  or  doctrine,  she 
administered  one  or  the  other  with  equal  belief  in  her 
own  authority,  and  her  disciples  swallowed  both  obedi- 
ently. She  believed  herself  to  be  one  of  the  most  virtu- 
ous, self-denying,  wise,  learned  women  in  the  world; 
and,  dinning  this  opinion  perpetually  into  the  ears  of 
all  round  about  her,  succeeded  in  bringing  not  a  few 
persons  to  join  in  her  persuasion. 

At  Sir  Miles's  dinner  there  was  so  fine  a  side-board  of 
plate,  and  such  a  number  of  men  in  livery,  that  it  re- 
quired some  presence  of  mind  to  perceive  that  the  beer 
was  of  the  smallest  which  the  butler  brought  round  in 
the  splendid  tankard,  and  that  there  was  but  one  joint 
of  mutton  on  the  grand  silver  dish.  When  Sir  Miles 
called  the  King's  health,  and  smacked  his  jolly  lips  over 
his  wine,  he  eyed  it  and  the  company  as  if  the  liquor 
was  ambrosia.  He  asked  Harry  Warrington  whether 
they  had  port  like  that  in  Virginia?  He  said  that  was 
nothing  to  the  wine  Harry  should  taste  in  Norfolk.  He 
praised  the  wine  so,  that  Harry  almost  believed  that  it 
was  good,  and  winked  into  his  own  glass,  trying  to  see 
some  of  the  merits  which  his  uncle  perceived  in  the  ruby 
nectar. 

Just  as  we  see  in  many  a  well-regulated  family  of  this 
present  century,  the  Warringtons  had  their  two  para- 
gons. Of  the  two  grown  daughters,  the  one  was  the 
greatest  beauty,  the  other  the  greatest  genius  and  angel 


THE  VIRGINIANS  589 

of  any  young  lady  then  alive,  as  Lady  Warrington  told 
Harry.  The  eldest,  the  Beauty,  was  engaged  to  dear 
Tom  Claypool,  the  fond  mother  informed  her  Cousin 
Harry  in  confidence.  But  the  second  daughter,  the 
Genius  and  Angel,  was  for  ever  set  upon  our  young 
friend  to  improve  his  wits  and  morals.  She  sang  to  him 
at  the  harpsichord — rather  out  of  tune  for  an  angel, 
Harry  thought ;  she  was  ready  with  advice,  instruction, 
conversation — with  almost  too  much  instruction  and  ad- 
vice, thought  Harry,  who  would  have  far  preferred  the 
society  of  the  little  cousin  who  reminded  him  of  Fanny 
JMountain  at  home.  But  the  last-mentioned  young 
maiden  after  dinner  retired  to  her  nursery  commonly. 
Beauty  went  off  on  her  own  avocations;  Mamma  had 
to  attend  to  her  poor  or  write  her  voluminous  letters; 
Papa  dozed  in  his  arm-chair;  and  the  Genius  remained 
to  keep  her  young  cousin  company. 

The  calm  of  the  house  somehow  pleased  the  young 
man,  and  he  liked  to  take  refuge  there  away  from  the 
riot  and  dissipation  in  which  he  ordinarily  lived.  Cer- 
tainly no  welcome  could  be  kinder  than  that  which  he 
got.  The  doors  were  opened  to  him  at  all  hours.  If 
Flora  was  not  at  home,  Dora  was  ready  to  receive  him. 
Fre  many  days'  acquaintance,  he  and  his  little  Cousin 
Miles  had  been  to  have  a  galloping-match  in  the  Park, 
and  Harry,  who  was  kind  and  generous  to  every  man 
alive  who  came  near  him,  had  in  view  the  purchase  of 
a  little  horse  for  his  cousin,  far  better  than  that  which 
the  boy  rode,  when  the  circumstances  occurred  which 
brought  all  our  poor  Harry's  coaches  and  horses  to  a 
sudden  breakdown. 

Though  Sir  Miles  Warrington  liad  imagined  Virginia 
to  be  an  island,  the  ladies  were  much  better  instructed 


590  THE  VIRGINIANS 

in  geography,  and  anxious  to  hear  from  Harry  all 
about  his  home  and  his  native  country.  He,  on  his  part, 
was  not  averse  to  talk  about  it.  He  described  to  them 
the  length  and  breadth  of  his  estate;  the  rivers  which 
it  coasted ;  the  produce  which  it  bore.  He  had  had  with 
a  friend  a  little  practice  of  surveying  in  his  boyhood. 
He  made  a  map  of  his  county,  with  some  fine  towns  here 
and  there,  which,  in  truth,  were  but  log-huts  (but,  for 
the  honour  of  his  country,  he  was  desirous  that  they 
should  wear  as  handsome  a  look  as  possible).  Here 
was  Potomac;  here  was  James  River;  here  were  the 
wharves  whence  his  mother's  ships  and  tobacco  were 
brought  to  the  sea.  In  truth,  the  estate  was  as  large  as 
a  county.  He  did  not  brag  about  the  place  overmuch. 
To  see  the  handsome  young  fellow,  in  a  fine  suit  of 
velvet  and  silver-lace,  making  his  draught,  pointing  out 
this  hill  and  that  forest  or  town,  you  might  have  imag- 
ined him  a  travelling  prince  describing  the  realms  of 
the  queen  his  mother.  He  almost  fancied  himself  to 
be  so  at  times.  He  had  miles  where  gentlemen  in  Eng- 
land had  acres.  Not  only  Dora  listened,  but  the  beau- 
teous Flora  bowed  her  fair  head  and  heard  him  with 
attention.  Why,  what  was  young  Tom  Claypool,  their 
brother  baronet's  son  in  Norfolk,  with  his  great 
boots,  his  great  voice,  and  his  heirdom  to  a  poor  five 
thousand  acres,  compared  to  this  young  American 
prince  and  charming  stranger?  Angel  as  she  was,  Dora 
began  to  lose  her  angelic  temper,  and  to  twit  Flora  for 
a  flirt.  Claypool,  in  his  red  waistcoat,  would  sit  dumb 
before  the  splendid  Harry  in  his  ruffles  and  laces,  talk- 
ing of  March  and  Chesterfield,  Selwyn  and  Boling- 
broke,  and  the  whole  company  of  macaronis.  Mamma 
began  to  love  Harry  more  and  more  as  a  son.    She  was 


THE  VIRGINIANS  591 

anxious  about  the  spiritual  welfare  of  those  poor  In- 
dians, of  those  poor  negroes  in  Virginia.  What  could 
she  do  to  help  dear  Madam  Esmond  (a  precious  woman, 
she  knew ! )  in  the  good  work  ?  She  had  a  serious  butler 
and  housekeeper :  they  were  delighted  with  the  spiritual 
behaviour  and  sweet  musical  gifts  of  Gumbo. 

"Ah!  Harrj^  Harry!  you  have  been  a  sad  wild 
boy!  Why  did  you  not  come  sooner  to  us,  sir,  and  not 
lose  your  time  amongst  the  spendthrifts  and  the  vain 
world?  But  'tis  not  yet  too  late.  We  must  reclaim 
thee,  dear  Harry !  Mustn't  we,  Sir  Miles  ?  Mustn't  we, 
Dora?    Mustn't  we,  Flora?  " 

The  three  ladies  all  look  up  to  the  ceiling.  They  will 
reclaim  the  dear  prodigal.  It  is  which  shall  reclaim  him 
most.  Dora  sits  by  and  watches  Flora.  As  for  mamma, 
when  the  girls  are  away,  she  talks  to  him  more  and  more 
seriously,  more  and  more  tenderly.  She  will  be  a  mother 
to  him  in  the  absence  of  his  own  admirable  parent.  She 
gives  him  a  hymn-book.  She  kisses  him  on  the  fore- 
head. She  is  actuated  by  the  purest  love,  tenderness, 
religious  regard,  towards  her  dear,  wayward,  wild 
amiable  nephew. 

While  these  sentimentalities  were  going  on,  it  is  to 
be  presumed  that  Mr.  Warrington  kept  his  own  counsel 
about  his  affairs  out-of-doors,  which  we  have  seen  were 
in  the  very  worst  condition.  He  who  had  been  favoured 
by  Fortune  for  so  many  weeks  was  suddenly  deserted  by 
her,  and  a  few  days  had  serv^ed  to  kick  down  all  his 
heap  of  winnings.  Do  we  say  that  my  Lord  Castle- 
wood,  his  own  kinsman,  had  dealt  unfairly  by  the  young 
Virginian,  and  in  the  course  of  a  couple  of  afternoons' 
closet  practice  had  ro])be(l  hirn?  We  would  insinuate 
nothing  so  disrespectful  to  his  lordsliip's  cliaracter;   but 


592  THE  VIRGINIANS 

he  had  won  from  Harry  every  shilling  which  properly 
belonged  to  him,  and  would  have  played  him  for  his 
reversion,  but  that  the  young  man  flung  up  his  hands 
when  he  saw  himself  so  far  beaten,  and  declared  that 
he  must  continue  the  battle  no  more.  Remembering  that 
there  still  remained  a  spar  out  of  the  wreck,  as  it  were — 
that  portion  which  he  had  set  aside  for  poor  Sampson 
— Harry  ventured  it  at  the  gaming-table;  but  that  last 
resource  went  down  along  with  the  rest  of  Harry's  pos- 
sessions, and  Fortune  fluttered  ofl"  in  the  storm,  leaving 
the  luckless  adventurer  almost  naked  on  the  shore. 

When  a  man  is  young  and  generous  and  hearty  the 
loss  of  money  scarce  afflicts  him.  Harry  would  sell  his 
horses  and  carriages,  and  diminish  his  train  of  life.  If 
he  wanted  immediate  supplies  of  money,  would  not  his 
Aunt  Bernstein  be  his  banker,  or  his  kinsman  who  had 
won  so  much  from  him,  or  his  kind  Uncle  Warrington 
and  Lady  Warrington  who  were  always  talking  virtue 
and  benevolence,  and  declaring  that  they  loved  him  as  a 
son?  He  would  call  upon  these,  or  any  one  of  them 
whom  he  might  choose  to  favour,  at  his  leisure;  mean- 
while, Sampson's  story  of  his  landlord's  distress  touched 
the  young  gentleman,  and,  in  order  to  raise  a  hasty 
supply  for  the  clergyman,  he  carried  off  all  his  trinkets 
to  a  certain  pawnbroker's  shop  in  St.  Martin's  Lane. 

Now  this  broker  was  a  relative  or  partner  of  that  very 
Mr.  Sparks  of  Tavistock  Street  from  whom  Harry  had 
purchased — purchased  did  we  say? — no;  taken  the  trin- 
kets which  he  had  intended  to  present  to  his  Oakhurst 
friends;  and  it  chanced  that  Mr.  Sparks  came  to  visit 
his  brother  tradesman  very  soon  after  Mr.  Warrington 
had  disposed  of  his  goods.  Recognizing  immediately 
the  little  enamelled  diamond-handled  repeater  which  he 


THE  VIRGINIANS  593 

had  sold  to  the  Fortunate  Youth,  the  jeweller  broke  out 
JLnto  expressions  regarding  Harry  which  I  will  not  men- 
tion here,  being  already  accused  of  speaking  much  too 
plainly.  A  gentleman  who  is  acquainted  with  a  pawn- 
broker, we  may  be  sure  has  a  bailiff  or  two  amongst  his 
acquaintances;  and  those  bailiffs  have  followers  who, 
at  the  bidding  of  the  impartial  Law,  will  touch  with 
equal  hand  the  fiercest  captain's  epaulet  or  the  finest 
macaroni's  shoulder.  The  very  gentlemen  who  had 
seized  upon  Lady  Maria  at  Tunbridge  were  set  upon 
her  cousin  in  London.  They  easily  learned  from  the 
garrulous  Gumbo  that  his  honour  was  at  Sir  Miles  War- 
rington's house  in  Hill  Street,  and  whilst  the  black  was 
courting  Mrs.  Lambert's  maid  at  the  adjoining  mansion, 
Mr.  Costigan  and  his  assistant  lay  in  wait  for  poor 
Harry,  who  was  enjoying  the  delights  of  intercourse 
with  a  virtuous  family-circle  assembled  round  his  aunt's 
table.  Never  had  Uncle  Miles  been  more  cordial,  never 
had  Aunt  Warrington  been  more  gracious,  gentle,  and 
affectionate;  Flora  looked  unusually  lovely,  Dora  had 
been  more  than  ordinarily  amiable.  At  parting,  my 
lady  gave  him  both  her  hands,  and  called  benedictions 
from  the  ceiling  down  upon  him.  Papa  had  said  in 
his  most  jovial  manner,  "Hang  it,  nephew!  when  I 
was  thy  age  I  should  have  kissed  two  such  fine  girls  as 
Do  and  Flo  ere  this,  and  my  own  flesh  and  blood  too! 
Don't  tell  me !  I  should,  my  Lady  Warrington !  Odd's- 
fish!  'tis  the  boy  blushes,  and  not  the  gn-ls!  I  think — 
I  suppose  they  are  used  to  it.    He,  he!  " 

"  Papa!  "  cry  the  virgins. 

"  Sir  Miles! "  says  the  august  mother  at  the  same  in- 
stant. 

"There,  there!"  says  papa.     "A  kiss  won't  do  no 


594  THE  VIRGINIANS 

harm,  and  won't  tell  no  tales,  will  it,  Nephew  Harry?  " 
I  suppose,  during  the  utterance  of  the  above  three 
brief  phrases,  the  harmless  little  osculatory  operation  has 
taken  place,  and  blushing  Cousin  Harry  has  touched  the 
damask  cheek  of  Cousin  Flora  and  Cousin  Dora. 

As  he  goes  down  stairs  with  his  uncle,  mamma  makes 
a  speech  to  the  girls,  looking,  as  usual,  up  to  the  ceiling, 
and  saying,  "  What  precious  qualities  your  poor  dear 
cousin  has!  What  shrewdness  mingled  with  his  sim- 
j)licity,  and  what  a  fine  genteel  manner,  though  upon 
mere  worldly  elegance  I  set  little  store.  What  a  dread- 
ful pity  to  think  that  such  a  vessel  should  ever  be  lost! 
We  must  rescue  him,  my  loves.  We  must  take  him 
away  from  those  wicked  companions,  and  those  horrible 
Castlewoods — not  that  I  would  speak  ill  of  my  neigh- 
bours. But  I  shall  hope,  I  shall  pray,  that  he  may  be 
rescued  from  his  evil  courses!  "  And  again  Lady  War- 
rington eyes  the  cornice  in  a  most  determined  manner, 
as  the  girls  wistfully  look  towards  the  door  behind 
which  their  interesting  cousin  has  just  vanished. 

His  uncle  will  go  down  stairs  with  him.  He  calls, 
"God  bless  you,  my  boy!"  most  affectionately:  he 
presses  Harry's  hand,  and  repeats  his  valuable  bene- 
diction at  the  door.  As  it  closes,  the  light  from  the  hall 
within  having  sufficiently  illuminated  Mr.  Warrington's 
face  and  figure,  two  gentlemen,  who  have  been  standing 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  advance  rapidly,  and 
one  of  them  takes  a  strip  of  paper  out  of  his  pocket,  and 
putting  his  hand  upon  Mr.  Warrington's  shoulder,  de- 
clares him  his  prisoner.  A  hackney-coach  is  in  atten- 
dance, and  poor  Harry  goes  to  sleep  in  Chancery  Lane. 

Oh,  to  think  that  a  Virginian  prince's  back  should  be 
slapped  by  a  ragged  bailiff's  follower!— that  Madam 


'i^^'^< 


J 


^  -^^. 


f^ 


^/; 


■\    ' 


A  Pair  of  Old  AcquaintanceB 


s 

'1 


THE  VIRGINIANS  595 

Esmond's  son  should  be  in  a  sponging-house  in  Cursitor 
Street!  I  do  not  envy  our  young  prodigal  his  rest  on 
that  dismal  night.  Let  us  hit  him  now  he  is  down,  my 
beloved  young  friends.  Let  us  imagine  the  stings  of 
remorse  keeping  him  wakeful  on  his  dingy  pillow;  the 
horrid  jollifications  of  other  hardened  inmates  of  the 
place  ringing  in  his  ears  from  the  room  hard  by,  where 
they  sit  boozing;  the  rage  and  shame  and  discomfiture. 
No  pity  on  him,  I  say,  my  honest  young  gentlemen,  for 
you,  of  course,  have  never  indulged  in  extravagance  or 
folly,  or  paid  the  reckoning  of  remorse. 


CHAPTER   XLVI 


CHAINS  AND    SLAA^RY 

^EMORSE  for  past  misdeeds 
and  follies  Harry  sin- 
cerely felt,  when  he  found 
himself  a  prisoner  in  that 
dismal  lock-up  house,  and 
wrath  and  annoyance  at 
the  idea  of  being  sub- 
jected to  the  indignity  of 
arrest ;  but  the  present  un- 
pleasantry  he  felt  sure 
could  only  be  momentary. 
He  had  twenty  friends 
who  would  release  him 
from  his  confinement:  to  which  of  them  should  he  ap- 
ply, was  the  question.  Mr.  Draper,  the  man  of  business, 
who  had  been  so  obsequious  to  him:  his  kind  uncle  the 
baronet,  who  had  offered  to  make  his  house  Harry's 
home,  who  loved  him  as  a  son:  his  Cousin  Castlewood, 
who  had  won  such  large  sums  from  him:  his  noble 
friends  at  the  Chocolate  House,  his  good  Aunt  Bern- 
stein— any  of  these  Harry  felt  sure  would  give  him  a 
help  in  his  trouble,  though  some  of  the  relatives,  per- 
haps, might  administer  to  him  a  little  scolding  for  his 
imprudence.  The  main  point  was,  that  the  matter 
should  be  transacted  quietly,  for  Mr.  Warrington  was 
anxious  that  as  few  as  possible  of  the  public  should 

696 


THE  VIRGINIANS  597 

know  how  a  gentleman  of  his  prodigious  importance  had 
jjeen  subject  to  such  a  vulgar  process  as  an  arrest. 

"A  pretty  sensation  my  arrest  must  have  created  at 
the  club ! "  thought  Harry.  "  I  suppose  that  Mr.  Sel- 
wyn  will  be  cutting  all  sorts  of  jokes  about  my  misfor- 
tune, plague  take  him !  Everybody  round  the  table  will 
have  heard  of  it.  March  will  tremble  about  the  bet  I 
have  with  him ;  and,  faith,  'twill  be  difficult  to  pay  him 
when  I  lose.  They  will  all  be  setting  up  a  whoop  of 
congratulation  at  the  Savage,  as  they  call  me,  being 
taken  prisoner.  How  shall  I  ever  be  able  to  appear  in 
the  world  again  ?  Whom  shall  I  ask  to  come  to  my  help  ? 
No,"  thought  he,  with  his  mingled  acuteness  and  sim- 
plicity, "  I  will  not  send  in  the  first  instance  to  any  of 
my  relations  or  my  noble  friends  at  White's.  I  will 
have  Sampson's  counsel.  He  has  often  been  in  a  simi- 
lar predicament,  and  will  know  how  to  advise  me."  Ac- 
cordingly, as  soon  as  the  light  of  dawn  appeared,  after 
an  almost  intolerable  delay — for  it  seemed  to  Harry  as 
if  the  sun  had  forgotten  to  visit  Cursitor  Street  in  his 
rounds  that  morning — and  as  soon  as  the  inmates  of  the 
house  of  bondage  were  stirring,  Mr.  Warrington  de- 
spatched a  messenger  to  his  friend  in  Long  Acre,  ac- 
quainting the  Chaplain  with  the  calamity  just  befallen 
him,  and  beseeching  his  Reverence  to  give  him  the  bene- 
fit of  his  advice  and  consolation. 

Mr.  Warrington  did  not  know,  to  be  sure,  tliat  to 
send  such  a  message  to  the  parson  was  as  if  he  said,  "  I 
am  fallen  amongst  the  lions.  Come  down,  my  dear 
friend,  into  the  pit  with  me."  Harry  very  likely  thought 
Sampson's  difficulties  were  over;  or,  more  likely  still, 
was  so  much  engrossed  with  his  own  affairs  and  per- 
plexities, as  to  bestow  little  tliought  u])()n  liis  neigli- 
bour's.    Having  sent  off  his  missive  the  captive's  mind 


598  THE  VIRGINIANS 

was  somewhat  more  at  ease,  and  he  condescended  to 
call  for  breakfast,  which  was  brought  to  him  presently. 
The  attendant  who  served  him  with  his  morning  repast, 
asked  him  whether  he  would  order  dinner,  or  take  his 
meal  at  Mrs.  Bailiff's  table  with  some  other  gentlemen? 
No.  Mr.  Warrington  would  not  order  dinner.  He 
should  quit  the  place  before  dinnertime,  he  informed  the 
chamberlain  who  waited  on  him  in  that  grim  tavern. 
The  man  went  away,  thinking  no  doubt  that  this  was 
not  the  first  young  gentleman  who  had  announced  that 
he  was  going  away  ere  two  hours  were  over.  "  Well, 
if  your  honour  does  stay,  there  is  good  beef  and  carrot 
at  two  o'clock,"  says  the  sceptic,  and  closes  the  door  on 
Mr.  Harry  and  his  solitary  meditations. 

Harry's  messenger  to  Mr.  Sampson  brought  back  a 
message  from  that  gentleman  to  say  that  he  would  be 
with  his  patron  as  soon  as  might  be:  but  ten  o'clock 
came,  eleven  o'clock,  noon,  and  no  Sampson.  No  Samp- 
son arrived,  but  about  twelve  Gumbo  with  a  portman- 
teau of  his  master's  clothes,  who  flung  himself,  roaring 
with  grief,  at  Harry's  feet:  and  with  a  thousand  vows 
of  fidelity,  expressed  himself  ready  to  die,  to  sell  him- 
self into  slavery  over  again,  to  do  anything  to  rescue  his 
beloved  Master  Harry  from  this  calamitous  position. 
Harry  was  touched  with  the  lad's  expressions  of  affec- 
tion, and  told  him  to  get  up  from  the  ground  where  he 
was  grovelling  on  his  knees,  embracing  his  master's. 
"  All  you  have  to  do,  sir,  is  to  give  me  my  clothes  to 
dress,  and  to  hold  your  tongue  about  this  business. 
Mind  you,  not  a  word,  sir,  about  it  to  anybody!  "  says 
Mr.  Warrington,  severely. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,  nebber  to  nobody!  "  says  Gumbo,  looking 
most  solemnly,  and  proceeded  to  dress  his  master  care- 
fully, who  had  need  of  a  change  and  a  toilette  after  his 


THE  VIRGINIANS  599 

yesterday's  sudden  capture,  and  night's  dismal  rest. 
Accordingly  Gumbo  flung  a  dash  of  powder  in  Harry's 
hair,  and  arrayed  his  master  carefully  and  elegantly,  so 
that  he  made  Mr.  Warrington  look  as  fine  and  splendid 
as  if  he  had  been  stepping  into  his  chair  to  go  to  St. 
James's. 

Indeed  all  that  love  and  servility  could  do  ]Mr.  Gumbo 
faithfully  did  for  his  master,  for  whom  he  had  an  ex- 
treme regard  and  attachment.  But  there  were  certain 
things  beyond  Gumbo's  power.  He  could  not  undo 
things  which  were  done  already;  and  he  could  not  help 
lying  and  excusing  himself  when  pressed  upon  points 
disagreeable  to  himself. 

As  for  swearing  not  to  say  a  word  about  his  master's 
arrest — such  an  oath  as  that  was  impossible  to  keep :  for, 
with  a  heart  full  of  grief  indeed,  but  with  a  tongue  that 
never  could  cease  wagging,  bragging,  joking,  and  lying, 
Mr.  Gumbo  had  announced  the  woeful  circumstance  to 
a  prodigious  number  of  his  acquaintances  already, 
chiefly  gentlemen  of  the  shoulder-knot  and  worsted 
lace.  We  have  seen  how  he  carried  the  news  to  Colonel 
Lambert's  and  Lord  Wrotham's  servants:  he  had  pro- 
claimed it  at  the  footman's  club  to  which  he  belonged, 
and  which  was  frequented  by  the  gentlemen  of  some  of 
the  first  nobility.  He  had  subsequently  condescended 
to  partake  of  a  mug  of  ale  in  Sir  Miles  Warrington's 
butler's  room,  and  there  had  repeated  and  embel- 
lished the  story.  Then  he  had  gone  off  to  Madame  Bern- 
stein's people,  with  some  of  whom  lie  was  on  terms  of 
affectionate  intercourse,  and  had  informed  that  domestic 
circle  of  his  grief:  and,  his  master  being  captured,  and 
there  being  no  earthly  call  for  his  personal  services  that 
evening,  Gumbo  had  stepped  up  to  Lord  Castlewood's, 


GOO  THE  VIRGINIANS 

and  informed  the  gentry  there  of  the  incident  which  had 
just  come  to  pass.  So  when,  laying  his  hand  on  his 
heart,  and  with  gushing  floods  of  tears.  Gumbo  says, 
in  reply  to  his  master's  injunction,  "Oh,  no,  master! 
nebber  to  nobody!  "  we  are  in  a  condition  to  judge  of 
the  degree  of  credibility  which  ought  to  be  given  to  the 
lad's  statement. 

The  black  had  long  completed  his  master's  toilet :  the 
dreary  breakfast  was  over:  slow  as  the  hours  went  to 
the  prisoner,  still  they  were  passing  one  after  another, 
but  no  Sampson  came  in  accordance  with  the  promise 
sent  in  the  morning.  At  length,  some  time  after  noon, 
there  arrived,  not  Sampson,  but  a  billet  from  him,  sealed 
with  a  moist  wafer,  and  with  the  ink  almost  yet  wet. 
The  unlucky  divine's  letter  ran  as  follows: 

"  Oh,  sir,  dear  sir,  I  have  done  all  that  a  man  can  at  the  com- 
mand and  in  the  behalf  of  his  patron!  You  did  not  know,  sir, 
to  what  you  were  subjecting  me,  did  you?  Else,  if  I  was  to  go 
to  prison,  why  did  I  not  share  yours,  and  why  am  I  in  a  lock-up 
house  three  doors  off? 

"  Yes.  Such  is  the  fact.  As  I  was  hastening  to  you,  knowing 
full  well  the  danger  to  which  I  was  subject:— but  what  danger 
will  I  not  affront  at  the  call  of  such  a  benefactor  as  Mr.  War- 
rington hath  been  to  me?— I  was  seized  by  two  villains  who  had 
a  writ  against  me,  and  who  have  lodged  me  at  Naboth's  hard  by, 
and  so  close  to  your  honour,  that  we  could  almost  hear  each  other 
across  the  garden-walls  of  the  respective  houses  where  we  are 
confined. 

"  I  had  much  and  of  importance  to  say,  which  I  do  not  care  to 
write  down  in  paper,  regarding  your  affairs.     May  they  mend! 
May  my  cursed  fortunes,  too,  better  themselves,  is  the  prayer  of 
"  Your  honour's  afflicted  Chaplain  in  Ordinary, 

"  T.  S." 


THE  VIRGINIANS  601 

And  now,  as  Mr.  Sampson  refuses  to  speak,  it  will 
^i)e  our  duty  to  acquaint  the  reader  with  those  matters 
whereof  the  poor  Chaplain  did  not  care  to  discourse  on 
paper. 

Gumbo's  loquacity  had  not  reached  so  far  as  Long 
Acre,  and  Mr.  Sampson  was  ignorant  of  the  extent  of 
his  patron's  calamity  until  he  received  Harry's  letter 
and  messenger  from  Chancery  Lane.  The  divine  was 
still  ardent  with  gratitude  for  the  service  Mr.  Warring- 
ton had  just  conferred  on  him,  and  eager  to  find  some 
means  to  succour  his  distressed  patron.  He  knew  what 
a  large  sum  Lord  Castlewood  had  won  from  his  cousin, 
had  dined  in  company  with  his  lordship  on  the  day  be- 
fore, and  now  ran  to  Lord  Castlewood's  house,  with  a 
hope  of  arousing  him  to  some  pity  for  Mr.  Warrington. 
Sampson  made  a  very  eloquent  and  touching  speech  to 
Lord  Castlewood  about  his  kinsman's  misfortune,  and 
spoke  with  a  real  kindness  and  sympathy,  which,  how- 
ever, failed  to  touch  the  nobleman  to  whom  he  addressed 
himself. 

My  lord  peevishly  and  curtly  put  a  stop  to  the  Chap- 
Iain's  passionate  pleading.  "  Did  I  not  tell  you,  two 
days  since,  when  you  came  for  money,  that  I  was  as 
poor  as  a  beggar,  Sampson,"  said  his  lordship,  "  and  has 
anybody  left  me  a  fortune  since?  The  little  sum  I  won 
from  my  cousin  was  swallowed  up  by  others.  I  not  only 
can't  help  IVIr.  Warrington,  but,  as  I  pledge  you  my 
word,  not  being  in  the  least  aware  of  liis  calamity,  I  had 
positively  written  to  him  this  morning  to  ask  him  to 
help  me"  And  a  letter  to  this  effect  did  actually  reach 
Mr.  Warrington  from  his  lodgings,  wliither  it  had  been 
despatched  ])y  the  penny-post. 

"  I  must  get  him  money,  my  lord.     I  know  he  had 


G02  THE  VIRGINIANS 

scarcely  anything  left  in  his  pocket  after  relieving  me. 
Were  I  to  pawn  my  cassock  and  bands,  he  must  have 
money,"  cried  the  Chaplain. 

"  Amen.  Go  and  pawn  your  bands,  your  cassock, 
anything  you  please.  Your  enthusiasm  does  you  credit," 
said  my  lord;  and  resumed  the  reading  of  his  paper, 
whilst,  in  the  deepest  despondency,  poor  Sampson  left 
him. 

My  Lady  Maria  meanwhile  had  heard  that  the  Chap- 
lain was  with  her  brother,  and  conjectured  what  might 
be  the  subject  on  which  they  had  been  talking.  She 
seized  upon  the  parson  as  he  issued  from  out  his  fruit- 
less interview  with  my  lord.  She  drew  him  into  the 
dining-room:  the  strongest  marks  of  grief  and  sympa- 
thy were  in  her  countenance.  "  Tell  me,  what  is  this 
has  happened  to  Mr.  Warrington?  "  she  asked. 

"  Your  ladyship,  then,  knows?  "  asked  the  Chaplain. 

"  Have  I  not  been  in  mortal  anxiety  ever  since  his 
servant  brought  the  dreadful  news  last  night? "  asked 
my  lady.  "  We  had  it  as  we  came  from  the  opera— 
from  my  Lady  Yarmouth's  box— my  lord,  my  Lady 
Castlewood,  and  I." 

"  His  lordship,  then,  did  know?  "  continued  Sampson. 

"  Benson  told  the  news  when  we  came  from  the  play- 
house to  our  tea,"  repeats  Lady  Maria. 

The  Chaplain  lost  all  patience  and  temper  at  such 
duplicity.  "  This  is  too  bad,"  he  said,  with  an  oath;  and 
he  told  Lady  Maria  of  the  conversation  which  he  had 
just  had  with  Lord  Castlewood,  and  of  the  latter's  re- 
fusal to  succour  his  cousin,  after  winning  great  sums  of 
money  from  him,  and,  with  much  eloquence  and  feeling, 
of  Mr.  Warrington's  most  generous  behaviour  to  him- 
self. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  603 

Then  my  Lad}^  INIaria  broke  out  with  a  series  of  re- 
^jnarks  regarding  her  own  family,  which  were  by  no 
means  comphmentary  to  her  own  kith  and  kin.  Al- 
though not  accustomed  to  tell  truth  commonly,  yet,  when 
certain  families  fall  out,  it  is  wonderful  what  a  number 
of  truths  they  will  tell  about  one  another.  With  tears, 
imprecations,  I  do  not  like  to  think  how  much  stronger 
language,  Lady  Maria  burst  into  a  furious  and  impas- 
sioned tirade,  in  which  she  touched  upon  the  history  of 
almost  all  her  noble  famil}^  She  complimented  the  men 
and  the  ladies  alike ;  she  shrieked  out  interrogatories  to 
heaven,  inquiring  why  it  had  made  such — (never  mind 
what  names  she  called  her  brothers,  sisters,  uncles,  aunts, 
parents)  ;  and,  emboldened  with  wrath,  she  dashed  at  her 
brother's  library-door,  so  shrill  in  her  outcries,  so  furious 
in  her  demeanour,  that  the  alarmed  Chaplain,  fearing 
the  scene  which  might  ensue,  made  for  the  street. 

My  lord,  looking  up  from  the  book  or  other  occupa- 
tion which  engaged  him,  regarded  the  furious  woman 
with  some  surprise,  and  selected  a  good  strong  oath  to 
fling  at  her,  as  it  were,  and  check  her  onset. 

But,  when  roused,  we  have  seen  how  courageous 
]Maria  could  be.  Afraid  as  she  was  ordinarily  of  her 
brother,  she  was  not  in  a  mood  to  be  frightened  now  by 
any  language  of  abuse  or  sarcasm  at  his  command. 

"  So,  my  lord ! "  she  called  out ;  "  you  sit  down  with 
him  in  private  to  cards,  and  pigeon  him!  You  get  the 
poor  boy's  last  shilling,  and  you  won't  give  him  a  guinea 
out  of  his  own  winnings  now  he  is  penniless!  " 

"  So  that  infernal  Cha])lain  has  been  telling  tales!" 
says  my  lord. 

"  Dismiss  him:  do!  Pay  him  his  wages,  and  let  him 
go, — he  will  be  glad  enough!  "  cries  Maria. 


004  THE  VIRGINIANS 

'*  I  keep  him  to  marry  one  of  my  sisters,  in  case  he  is 
wanted,"  says  Castlewood,  glaring  at  her. 

"  What  can  the  women  be  in  a  family  where  there  are 
such  men?  "  says  the  lady. 

"  Eifectivement!  "  says  my  lord,  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulder. 

"  What  can  we  be,  when  our  fathers  and  brothers  are 
what  they  are?  We  are  bad  enough,  but  what  are  you? 
I  say,  you  neither  have  courage— no,  nor  honour,  nor 
common  feeling.  As  your  equals  won't  play  with  you, 
my  Lord  Castlewood,  you  must  take  this  poor  lad  out 
of  Virginia,  j^our  own  kinsman,  and  pigeon  him!  Oh, 
it's  a  shame — a  shame!  " 

"  We  are  all  playing  our  own  game,  I  suppose. 
Haven't  you  played  and  won  one,  Maria?  Is  it  you  that 
are  squeamish  all  of  a  sudden  about  the  poor  lad  from 
Virginia?  Has  Mr.  Harry  cried  off,  or  has  your  lady- 
ship got  a  better  oiFer?  "  cried  my  lord.  "  If  you  won't 
have  him,  one  of  the  Warrington  girls  will,  I  promise 
you;  and  the  old  Methodist  woman  in  Hill  Street  will 
give  him  the  choice  of  either.  Are  you  a  fool,  Maria 
Esmond?    A  greater  fool,  I  mean,  than  in  common?  " 

"  I  should  be  a  fool  if  I  thought  that  either  of  my 
brothers  could  act  like  an  honest  man,  Eugene!"  said 
Maria.  "  I  am  a  fool  to  expect  that  you  will  be  other 
than  you  are;  that  if  you  find  any  relative  in  distress 
you  will  help  him;  that  if  you  can  meet  with  a  victim 
you  won't  fleece  him." 

"  Fleece  him!  Psha!  What  folly  are  you  talking! 
Have  you  not  seen,  from  the  course  which  the  lad  has 
been  running  for  months  past,  how  he  would  end?  If 
I  had  not  won  his  money,  some  other  would.  I  never 
grudged  thee  thy  little  plans  regarding  him.     Why 


THE  VIRGINIANS  605 

shouldst  thou  fly  in  a  passion,  because  I  have  just  put 
;-out  my  hand  to  take  what  he  was  offering  to  all  the 
world?  I  reason  with  you,  I  don't  know  why,  Maria. 
You  should  be  old  enough  to  understand  reason,  at  any 
rate.  You  think  this  money  belonged  of  right  to  Lady 
Maria  Warrington  and  her  children?  I  tell  you  that  in 
three  months  more  every  shilling  would  have  found  its 
way  to  White's  macco-table,  and  that  it  is  much  better 
spent  in  paying  my  debts.  So  much  for  your  ladyship's 
anger  and  tears,  and  menaces,  and  naughty  language. 
See!  I  am  a  good  brother,  and  repay  them  with  reason 
and  kind  words." 

*'  My  good  brother  might  have  given  a  little  more 
than  kind  words  to  the  lad  from  whom  he  has  just  taken 
hundreds,"  interposed  the  sister  of  this  affectionate 
brother. 

"Great  heavens,  Maria!  Don't  you  see  that  even 
out  of  this  affair,  unpleasant  as  it  seems,  a  clever  woman 
may  make  her  advantage,"  cries  my  lord.  Maria  said 
she  failed  to  comprehend. 

"As  thus.  I  name  no  names;  I  meddle  in  no  per- 
son's business,  having  quite  enough  to  do  to  manage  my 
own  cursed  affairs.  But  suppose  I  happen  to  know  of 
a  case  in  another  family  which  may  be  applicable  to  ours. 
It  is  this.  A  green  young  lad  of  tolerable  expectations, 
comes  up  from  the  country  to  his  friends  in  town — never 
mind  from  what  country;  never  mind  to  what  town. 
An  elderly  female  relative,  who  has  been  dragging  her 
spinsterhood  about  these— how  many  years  shall  we  say? 
— extorts  a  promise  of  marriage  from  my  young  gentle- 
man, never  mind  on  what  conditions." 

"  My  lord,  do  you  want  to  insult  your  sister  as  well 
as  to  injure  your  cousin?  "  asks  Maria. 


006  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  My  good  child,  did  I  say  a  single  word  about  flee- 
cing or  cheating,  or  pigeoning,  or  did  I  fly  into  a  passion 
when  you  insulted  me?  I  know  the  allowance  that  must 
be  made  for  your  temper,  and  the  natural  folly  of  your 
sex.  I  say  I  treated  you  with  soft  words— I  go  on  with 
my  story.  The  elderly  relative  extracts  a  promise  of 
marriage  from  the  young  lad,  which  my  gentleman  is 
quite  unwilling  to  keep.  No,  he  won't  keep  it.  He  is 
utterly  tired  of  his  elderly  relative;  he  will  plead  his 
mother's  refusal:  he  will  do  anything  to  get  out  of  his 
promise." 

"  Yes;  if  he  was  one  of  us  Esmonds,  my  Lord  Castle- 
wood.  But  this  is  a  man  of  honour  we  are  speaking  of," 
cried  Maria,  who,  I  suppose,  admired  truth  in  others, 
however  little  she  saw  it  in  her  own  family. 

"  I  do  not  contradict  either  of  my  dear  sister's  remarks. 
One  of  us  would  fling  the  promise  to  the  winds,  especially 
as  it  does  not  exist  in  writing." 

"  My  lord!  "  gasps  out  Maria. 

"Bah!  I  know  all.  That  little  coup  of  Tunbridge 
was  played  by  the  Aunt  Bernstein  with  excellent  skill. 
The  old  woman  is  the  best  man  of  our  family.  While 
you  were  arrested,  your  boxes  were  searched  for  the  Mo- 
hock's letters  to  you.  When  you  were  let  loose,  the  let- 
ters had  disappeared,  and  you  said  nothing,  like  a  wise 
woman,  as  you  are  sometimes.  You  still  hanker  after 
your  Cherokee.  Soit.  A  woman  of  your  mature  expe- 
rience knows  the  value  of  a  husband.  What  is  this  little 
loss  of  two  or  three  hundred  pounds?  " 

"  Not  more  than  three  hundred,  my  lord?  "  interposes 
Maria. 

"Eh!  never  mind  a  hundred  or  two,  more  or  less. 
What  is  this  loss  at  cards  ?    A  mere  bagatelle !    You  are 


THE  VIRGINIANS  607 

playing  for  a  principality.  You  want  your  kingdom  in 
Virginia ;  and  if  you  listen  to  my  opinion,  the  little  mis- 
fortune which  has  happened  to  your  swain  is  a  piece  of 
great  good  fortune  to  you." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  my  lord." 

''  C'est  possible;  but  sit  down,  and  I  will  explain  what 
I  mean  in  a  manner  suited  to  your  capacity."  And  so 
Maria  Esmond,  who  had  advanced  to  her  brother  like  a 
raging  lion,  now  sat  down  at  his  feet  like  a  gentle  lamb. 

Madame  de  Bernstein  was  not  a  little  moved  at  the 
news  of  her  nephew's  arrest,  which  Mr.  Gumbo  brought 
to  Clarges  Street  on  the  night  of  the  calamity.  She 
would  have  cross-examined  the  black,  and  had  fur- 
ther particulars  respecting  Harry's  mishap:  but  Mr. 
Gumbo,  anxious  to  carry  his  intelligence  to  other  quar- 
ters, had  vanished  when  her  ladyship  sent  for  him.  Her 
temper  was  not  improved  by  the  news,  or  by  the  sleepless 
night  which  she  spent.  I  do  not  envy  the  dame  de  coiii- 
pagnie  who  played  cards  with  her,  or  the  servant  who 
had  to  lie  in  her  chamber.  An  arrest  was  an  everyday 
occurrence,  as  she  knew  very  well  as  a  woman  of  the 
world.  Into  what  difficulties  had  her  scapegrace  of  a 
nephew  fallen?  How  much  money  should  she  be  called 
upon  to  pay  to  release  him?  And  had  he  run  through 
all  his  own?  Provided  he  had  not  committed  himself 
very  deeply,  she  was  quite  disposed  to  aid  him.  She 
liked  even  his  extravagances  and  follies.  He  was  the 
only  being  in  the  world  on  whom,  for  long,  long  years, 
that  weary  woman  had  been  able  to  bestow  a  little 
natural  affection.  So,  on  their  different  beds,  she 
and  Harry  were  lying  wakeful  together;  and  quite 
early  in  the  morning  the  messengers  which  each  sent 


608  THE  VIRGINIANS 

forth  on  the  same  business  may  have  crossed  each 
other. 

Madame  Bernstein's  messenger  was  despatched  to  the 
chambers  of  her  man  of  business,  Mr.  Draper,  with  an 
order  that  Mr.  D.  should  ascertain  for  what  sums  Mr. 
Warrington  had  been  arrested,  and  forthwith  repair  to 
the  Baroness.  Draper's  emissaries  speedily  found  out 
that  Mr.  Warrington  was  locked  up  close  beside  them, 
and  the  amount  of  detainers  against  him  so  far.  Were 
there  other  creditors,  as  no  doubt  there  were,  they  would 
certainly  close  upon  him  when  they  were  made  ac- 
quainted with  his  imprisonment. 

To  Mr.  Sparks,  the  jeweller,  for  those  unlucky  pres- 
ents, so  much;  to  the  landlord  in  Bond  Street,  for 
board,  fire,  lodging,  so  much;  these  were  at  present  the 
only  claims  against  Mr.  Warrington,  Mr.  Draper  found. 
He  was  ready,  at  a  signal  from  her  ladyship,  to  settle 
them  at  a  moment.  The  jeweller's  account  ought  es- 
pecially to  be  paid,  for  Mr.  Harry  had  acted  most  im- 
prudently in  taking  goods  from  Mr.  Sparks  on  credit, 
and  pledging  them  with  a  pawnbroker.  He  must  have 
been  under  some  immediate  pressure  for  money;  in- 
tended to  redeem  the  goods  immediately ;  meant  nothing 
but  what  was  honourable  of  course ;  but  the  affair  would 
have  an  ugly  look,  if  made  public,  and  had  better  be 
settled  out  of  hand.  "  There  cannot  be  the  least  diffi- 
culty regarding  a  thousand  pounds  more  or  less,  for  a 
gentleman  of  Mr.  Warrington's  rank  and  expecta- 
tions," said  Madame  de  Bernstein.  Not  the  least:  her 
ladyship  knew  very  well  that  there  were  funds  belong- 
ing to  Mr.  Warrington,  on  which  money  could  be  at 
once  raised  with  her  ladyship's  guarantee. 

Should  he  go  that  instant  and  settle  the  matter  with 


THE  VIRGINIANS  609 

Messrs.  Amos?    Mr.  Harry  might  be  back  to  dine  with 
:^4ier  at  two,  and  to  confound  the  people  at  the  clubs, 
"  who  are  no  doubt  rejoicing  over  his  misfortunes,"  said 
the  compassionate  Mr.  Draper. 

But  the  Baroness  had  other  views.  *'  I  think,  my 
good  Mr.  Draper,"  she  said,  *'  that  my  young  gentleman 
has  sown  wild  oats  enough;  and  when  he  comes  out  of 
prison  I  should  like  him  to  come  out  clear,  and  without 
any  liabilities  at  all.    You  are  not  aware  of  all  his." 

"  No  gentleman  ever  does  tell  all  his  debts,  Madam," 
says  Mr.  Draper;  "  no  one  I  ever  had  to  deal  with." 

"  There  is  one  which  the  silly  boy  has  contracted,  and 
from  which  he  ought  to  be  released,  Mr.  Draper.  You 
remember  a  little  circumstance  which  occurred  at  Tun- 
bridge  Wells  in  the  autumn?  About  which  I  sent  up 
my  man  Case  to  you?  " 

"  When  your  ladyship  pleases  to  recall  it,  I  remem- 
ber it — not  otherwise,"  says  Mr.  Draper,  with  a  bow. 
"  A  lawyer  should  be  like  a  Popish  confessor, — what  is 
told  him  is  a  secret  for  ever,  and  for  everybody."  So 
we  must  not  whisper  Madame  Bernstein's  secret  to  Mr. 
Draper;  but  the  reader  may  perhaps  guess  it  from  the 
lawyer's  conduct  subsequently. 

The  lawyer  felt  pretty  certain  that  ere  long  he  would 
receive  a  summons  from  the  poor  young  prisoner  in 
Cursitor  Street,  and  waited  for  that  invitation  before 
he  visited  Mr.  Warrington.  Six-and-thirty  hours  passed 
ere  the  invitation  came,  during  which  period  Harry 
passed  the  dreariest  two  days  which  he  ever  remembered 
to  have  spent. 

There  was  no  want  of  company  in  the  lock-up  house, 
the  bailiff's  rooms  were  nearly  always  full;  but  Harry 
preferred  the  dingy  solitude  of  his  own  room  to  the  soci- 


610  THE  VIRGINIANS 

ety  round  his  lady's  table,  and  it  was  only  on  the  second 
day  of  his  arrest,  and  when  his  purse  was  emptied  by  the 
heavy  charges  of  the  place,  that  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  apply  to  Mr.  Draper.  He  despatched  a  letter  then 
to  the  lawj^er  at  the  Temple,  informing  him  of  his  plight, 
and  desiring  him,  in  an  emphatic  postscript,  not  to  say 
one  word  about  the  matter  to  his  aunt,  Madame  de  Bern- 
stein. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  apply  to  the  old 
lady  except  at  the  very  last  extremity.  She  had  treated 
him  with  so  much  kindness,  that  he  revolted  from  the 
notion  of  trespassing  on  her  bounty,  and  for  a  while 
tried  to  please  himself  with  the  idea  that  he  might  get 
out  of  durance  without  her  even  knowing  that  any  mis- 
fortune at  all  had  befallen  him.  There  seemed  to  him 
something  humiliating  in  petitioning  a  woman  for  mo- 
ney. No!  He  would  apply  first  to  his  male  friends, 
all  of  whom  might  help  him  if  they  would.  It  had  been 
his  intention  to  send  Sampson  to  one  or  other  of  them 
as  a  negotiator,  had  not  the  poor  fellow  been  captured 
on  his  way  to  succour  his  friend. 

Sampson  gone,  Harry  was  obliged  to  have  recourse 
to  his  own  negro  servant,  who  was  kept  on  the  trot  all 
day  between  Temple  Bar  and  the  Court  end  of  the  town 
with  letters  from  his  unlucky  master.  Firstly,  then, 
Harry  sent  oiF  a  most  private  and  confidential  letter  to 
his  kinsman,  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earl  of  Castle- 
wood,  saying  how  he  had  been  cast  into  prison,  and  beg- 
ging Castlewood  to  lend  him  the  amount  of  the  debt. 
*'  Please  to  keep  my  application,  and  the  cause  of  it, 
a  profound  secret  from  the  dear  ladies,"  wrote  poor 
Harry. 

"Was  ever  anything  so  unfortunate?"  wrote  back 


THE  VIRGINIANS  611 

Lord  Castlewood,  in  reply.  "  I  suppose  you  have  not 
^3^ot  my  note  of  yesterday?  It  must  be  lying  at  your 
lodgings,  where — I  hope  in  heaven! — you  will  soon  be, 
too.  INIy  dear  Mr.  Warrington,  thinking  you  were  as 
rich  as  Croesus — otherwise  I  should  never  have  sat  down 
to  cards  with  you — I  wrote  to  you  yesterday,  begging 
you  to  lend  me  some  money  to  appease  some  hungry 
duns  whom  I  don't  know  how  else  to  pacify.  My  poor 
fellow,  every  shilling  of  your  money  went  to  them,  and 
but  for  my  peer's  privilege  I  might  be  hob-and-nob  with 
you  now  in  your  dungeon.  May  you  soon  escape  from 
it,  is  the  prayer  of  your  sincere  Castlewood." 

This  was  the  result  of  application  number  one:  and 
we  may  imagine  that  Mr.  Harry  read  the  reply  to  his 
petition  with  rather  a  blank  face.  Never  mind!  There 
was  kind,  jolly  Uncle  Warrington.  Only  last  night  his 
aunt  had  kissed  him,  and  loved  him  like  a  son.  His 
uncle  had  called  down  blessings  on  his  head,  and  pro- 
fessed quite  a  paternal  regard  for  him.  With  a  feeling 
of  shyness  and  modesty  in  presence  of  those  virtuous 
parents  and  family,  Harry  had  never  said  a  word  about 
his  wild  doings,  or  his  horse-racings,  or  his  gamblings, 
or  his  extravagances.  It  must  all  out  now.  He  must 
confess  himself  a  Prodigal  and  a  Sinner,  and  ask  for 
their  forgiveness  and  aid.  So  Prodigal  sat  down  and 
composed  a  penitent  letter  to  Uncle  Warrington,  and 
exposed  his  sad  case,  and  besought  him  to  come  to  the 
rescue.  Was  not  that  a  bitter  nut  to  crack  for  our 
haughty  young  Virginian?  Hours  of  mortification  and 
profound  thought  as  to  the  pathos  of  the  composition 
did  Harry  pass  over  that  letter;  sheet  after  sheet  of 
Mr.  Amos's  sixpence  a  sheet  letter-paper  did  he  tear  up 
before  the  missive  was  complete,  with  which  poor  blub- 


612  THE  VIRGINIANS 

bering  Gumbo  (much  vilified  by  the  bailiff's  followers 
and  parasites,  whom  he  was  robbing,  as  they  conceived, 
of  their  perquisites )  went  his  way. 

At  evening  the  faithful  negro  brought  back  a  thick 
letter  in  his  aunt's  handwriting.  Harry  opened  the  let- 
ter with  a  trembling  hand.  He  thought  it  was  full  of 
bank-notes.  Ah,  me!  it  contained  a  sermon  (Daniel  in 
the  Lions'  Den)  by  Mr.  Whitfield,  and  a  letter  from 
Lady  Warrington  saying  that,  in  Sir  Miles's  absence 
from  London,  she  was  in  the  habit  of  opening  his  letters, 
and  hence,  perforce,  was  become  acquainted  with  a 
fact  which  she  deplored  from  her  inmost  soul,  to 
learn,  namely,  that  her  nephew  Warrington  had  been 
extravagant  and  was  in  debt.  Of  course,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  Sir  Miles,  she  could  not  hope  to  have  at 
command  such  a  sum  as  that  for  which  Mr.  War- 
rington wrote,  but  she  sent  him  her  heartfelt  prayers, 
her  deepest  commiseration^  and  a  discourse  by  dear 
Mr.  Whitfield,  which  would  comfort  him  in  his 
present  (alas!  she  feared  not  undeserved)  calamity. 
She  added  profuse  references  to  particular  Scriptural 
chapters  which  would  do  him  good.  If  she  might  speak 
of  things  worldly,  she  said,  at  such  a  moment,  she  would 
hint  to  Mr.  Warrington  that  his  epistolary  orthography 
was  anything  but  correct.  She  would  not  fail  for  her 
part  to  comply  with  his  express  desire  that  his  dear 
cousins  should  know  nothing  of  this  most  painful  cir- 
cumstance, and  with  every  wish  for  his  welfare  here  and 
elsewhere,  she  subscribed  herself  his  loving  aunt, 

Margaret  Warrington. 

Poor  Harry  hid  his  face  between  his  hands,  and  sat 
for  a  while  with  elbows  on  the  greasy  table  blankly  star- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  613 

ing  into  the  candle  before  him.  The  bailiff's  servant, 
^*who  was  touched  by  his  handsome  face,  suggested  a  mug 
of  beer  for  his  honour,  but  Harry  could  not  drmk,  nor 
eat  the  meat  that  was  placed  before  him.  Gumbo,  how- 
ever, could,  whose  grief  did  not  deprive  him  of  appetite, 
and  who,  blubbering  the  while,  finished  all  the  beer,  and 
all  the  bread  and  the  meat.  Meanwhile,  Harry  had  fin- 
ished another  letter,  with  which  Gumbo  was  commis- 
sioned to  start  again,  and  away  the  faithful  creature 
ran  upon  his  errand. 

Gumbo  ran  as  far  as  White's  Club,  to  which  house  he 
was  ordered  in  the  first  instance  to  carry  the  letter,  and 
where  he  found  the  person  to  whom  it  was  addressed. 
Even  the  prisoner,  for  whom  time  passed  so  slowly,  was 
surprised  at  the  celerity  with  which  his  negro  had  per- 
formed his  errand. 

At  least  the  letter  which  Harry  expected  had  not 
taken  long  to  write.  "  My  lord  wrote  it  at  the  hall- 
porter's  desk,  while  I  stood  there  then  with  Mr.  Morris," 
said  Gumbo,  and  the  letter  was  to  this  effect: — 

"  Dear  Sir, — I  am  sorry  I  cannot  comply  with  your  wish,  as 
I'm  short  of  money  at  present,  having  paid  large  sums  to  you  as 
well  as  to  other  gentlemen. 

"  Yours  obediently, 

"  March  and  R. 
"  Henry  Warrington,  Esq." 

"  Did  Lord  March  say  anything? "  asked  Mr.  War- 
rington, looking  very  pale. 

"  He  say  it  was  the  coolest  thing  he  ever  knew.  So 
did  Mr.  Morris.  He  showed  him  your  letter,  Master 
Harry.  Yes,  and  Mr.  Morris  say,  *  Dam  his  imper- 
ence! '  "  added  Gumbo, 


614  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Harry  burst  into  such  a  yell  of  laughter  that  his  land- 
lord thought  he  had  good  news,  and  ran  in  in  alarm  lest 
he  was  about  to  lose  his  tenant.  But  by  this  time  poor 
Harry's  laughter  was  over,  and  he  was  flung  down  in 
his  chair  gazing  dismally  in  the  fire. 

"  I— I  should  like  to  smoke  a  pipe  of  Virginia,"  he 
groaned. 

Gumbo  burst  into  tears:  he  flung  himself  at  Harry's 
knees.  He  kissed  his  knees  and  his  hands.  "  Oh,  mas- 
ter, my  dear  master,  what  will  they  say  at  home? "  he 
sobbed  out. 

The  jailer  was  touched  at  the  sight  of  the  black's 
grief  and  fidelity  and  at  Harry's  pale  face  as  he  sank 
back  in  his  chair,  quite  overcome  and  beaten  by  his 
calamity. 

"  Your  honour  ain't  eat  anything  these  two  days," 
the  man  said,  in  a  voice  of  rough  pity.  "  Pluck  up  a 
little,  sir.  You  aren't  the  first  gentleman  who  has  been 
in  and  out  of  grief  before  this.  Let  me  go  down  and 
get  you  a  glass  of  punch  and  a  little  supper." 

"  My  good  friend,"  said  Harry,  a  sickly  smile  play- 
ing over  his  white  face,  "  you  pay  ready  money  for 
everything  in  this  house,  don't  you?  I  must  tell  you 
that  I  haven't  a  shilling  left  to  buy  a  dish  of  meat.  All 
the  money  I  have  I  want  for  letter-paper." 

"Oh,  master,  my  master!"  roared  out  Gumbo. 
'*  Look  here,  my  dear  Master  Harry !  Here's  plenty  of 
money— here's  twenty -three  five-guineas.  Here's  gold 
moidore  from  Virginia — here — no,  not  that — that's 
keepsakes  the  girls  gave  me.  Take  everything— every- 
thing. I  go  sell  myself  to-morrow  morning ;  but  here's 
plenty  for  to-night,  master!  " 

"God  bless  you.  Gumbo!"  Harry  said,  laying  his 


THE  VIRGINIANS  615 

hand  on  the  lad's  woolly  head.  "  You  are  free  if  I  am 
;^>not,  and  heaven  forbid  I  should  not  take  the  offered 
help  of  such  a  friend  as  you.  Bring  me  some  supper: 
but  the  pipe  too,  mind— the  pipe  too!"  And  Harry 
ate  his  supper  with  a  relish:  and  even  the  turnkeys  and 
bailiff's  followers,  when  Gumbo  went  out  of  the  house 
that  niglit,  shook  hands  with  him,  and  ever  after  treated 
him  well. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 


VISITORS    IN    TROUBLE 


R.  GUMBO'S  gen- 
erous and  feeling 
conduct  soothed 
and  softened  the 
angry  heart  of  his 
master,  and  Har- 
ry's second  night 
in  the  sponging- 
house  was  passed 
more  pleasantly 
than  the  first. 
Somebody  at  least 
there  was  to  help 
and  compassionate 
with  him.  Still, 
though  softened  in 
that  one  particular 
spot,  Harry's  heart  was  hard  and  proud  towards  almost 
all  the  rest  of  the  world.  They  were  selfish  and  un- 
generous, he  thought.  His  pious  Aunt  Warrington, 
his  lordly  friend  March,  his  cynical  cousin  Castlewood, 
— all  had  been  tried,  and  were  found  wanting.  Not  to 
avoid  twenty  years  of  prison  would  he  stoop  to  ask  a  fa- 
vour of  one  of  them  again.  Fool  that  he  had  been,  to 
believe  in  their  promises,  and  confide  in  their  friendship  I 
There  was  no  friendship  in  this  cursed,  cold,  selfish  coun- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  617 

try.  He  would  leave  it.  He  would  trust  no  Englishman, 
"great  or  small.  He  would  go  to  Germany,  and  make 
a  campaign  with  the  king ;  or  he  would  go  home  to  Vir- 
ginia, bury  himself  in  the  woods  there,  and  hunt  all  day ; 
become  his  mother's  factor  and  land-steward;  marry 
Polly  Broadbent,  or  Fanny  Mountain;  turn  regular 
tobacco-grower  and  farmer;  do  anything,  rather  than 
remain  amongst  these  English  fine  gentlemen.  So  he 
arose  with  an  outwardly  cheerful  countenance,  but  an 
angry  spirit;  and  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  the 
faithful  Gumbo  was  in  attendance  in  his  master's  cham- 
ber, having  come  from  Bond  Street,  and  brought  Mr. 
Harry's  letters  thence.  "  I  wanted  to  bring  some  more 
clothes,"  honest  Gumbo  said ;  "  but  Mr.  RufF,  the  land- 
lord, he  wouldn't  let  me  bring  no  more." 

Harry  did  not  care  to  look  at  the  letters:  he  opened 
one,  two,  three;  they  were  all  bills.  He  opened  a 
fourth;  it  was  from  the  landlord,  to  say  that  he  would 
allow  no  more  of  Mr.  Warrington's  things  to  go  out 
of  the  house, — that  unless  his  bill  was  paid  he  should  sell 
Mr.  W.'s  goods  and  pay  himself;  and  that  his  black 
man  must  go  and  sleep  elsewhere.  He  would  hardly 
let  Gumbo  take  his  own  clothes  and  portmanteau  away. 
The  black  said  he  had  found  refuge  elsewhere — with 
some  friends  at  Lord  Wrotham's  house.  "  With  Colo- 
nel Lambert's  people,"  says  Mr.  Gumbo,  looking  very 
hard  at  his  master.  "  And  Miss  Hetty  she  fall  down 
in  a  faint,  when  she  hear  you  taken  up ;  and  Mr.  Lam- 
bert, he  very  good  man,  and  he  say  to  me  this  morning, 
he  say,  *  Gumbo,  you  tell  your  master  if  he  want  me  he 
send  to  me,  and  I  come  to  him.' " 

Harry  was  touched  when  he  heard  that  Hetty  had 
been  afflicted  by  his  misfortune.     He  did  not  believe 


618  THE  VIRGINIANS 

Gumbo's  story  about  her  fainting;  he  was  accustomed 
to  translate  his  black's  language  and  to  allow  for  exag- 
geration. But  when  Gumbo  spoke  of  the  Colonel  the 
young  Virginian's  spirit  was  darkened  again.  "  I  send 
to  Lambert,"  he  thought,  grinding  his  teeth,  "  the  man 
who  insulted  me,  and  flung  my  presents  back  in  my 
face!  If  I  were  starving  I  would  not  ask  him  for  a 
crust!"  And  presently,  being  dressed,  Mr.  Warring- 
ton called  for  his  breakfast,  and  despatched  Gumbo  with 
a  brief  note  to  Mr.  Draper  in  the  Temple  requiring  that 
gentleman's  attendance. 

"  The  note  was  as  haughty  as  if  he  was  writing  to 
one  of  his  negroes,  and  not  to  a  free-born  English  gen- 
tleman," Draper  said ;  whom  indeed  Harry  had  always 
treated  with  insufferable  condescension.  "  It's  all  very 
well  for  a  fine  gentleman  to  give  himself  airs;  but  for 
a  fellow  in  a  sponging-house !  Hang  him!"  says 
Draper,  "  I've  a  great  mind  not  to  go! "  Nevertheless, 
Mr.  Draper  did  go,  and  found  ]Mr.  Warrington  in  his 
misfortune  even  more  arrogant  than  he  had  ever  been 
in  the  days  of  his  utmost  prosperity.  Mr.  W.  sat  on 
his  bed,  like  a  lord,  in  a  splendid  gown  with  his  hair 
dressed.  He  motioned  his  black  man  to  fetch  him  a 
chair. 

"  Excuse  me.  Madam,  but  such  haughtiness  and  airs 
I  ain't  accustomed  to ! "  said  the  outraged  attorney. 

*'  Take  a  chair  and  go  on  with  your  story,  my  good 
Mr.  Draper!"  said  Madame  de  Bernstein,  smiling,  to 
whom  he  went  to  report  proceedings.  She  was  amused 
at  the  lawyer's  anger.  She  liked  her  nephew  for  being 
insolent  in   adversity. 

The  course  which  Draper  was  to  pursue  in  his  inter- 
view with  Harry  had  been  arranged  between  the  Bar- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  619 

oness  and  her  man  of  business  on  the  previous  day. 
^Draper  was  an  able  man,  and  likely  in  most  cases  to  do 
a  client  good  service:  he  failed  in  the  present  instance 
because  he  was  piqued  and  angry,  or,  more  likely  still, 
because  he  could  not  understand  the  gentleman  with 
whom  he  had  to  deal.  I  presume  that  he  who  casts  his 
eye  on  the  present  page  is  the  most  gentle  of  readers. 
Gentleman,  as  you  unquestionably  are  then,  my  dear  sir, 
have  you  not  remarked  in  your  dealings  with  people  who 
are  no  gentlemen,  that  you  offend  them  not  knowing  the 
how  or  the  why?  So  the  man  who  is  no  gentleman  of- 
fends you  in  a  thousand  ways  of  which  the  poor  creature 
has  no  idea  himself.  He  does  or  says  something  which 
provokes  your  scorn.  He  perceives  that  scorn  (being 
always  on  the  watch,  and  uneasy  about  himself,  his 
manners  and  behaviour)  and  he  rages.  You  speak  to 
him  naturally,  and  he  fancies  still  that  you  are  sneer- 
ing at  him.  You  have  indifference  towards  him,  but  he 
hates  you  and  hates  you  the  worse  because  you  don't 
care.  "Gumbo,  a  chair  to  Mr.  Draper!"  says  Mr. 
Warrington,  folding  his  brocaded  dressing-gown  round 
his  legs  as  he  sits  on  the  dingy  bed.  "  Sit  down,  if  you 
please,  and  let  us  talk  my  business  over.  Much  obliged 
to  you  for  coming  so  soon  in  reply  to  my  message.  Had 
you  heard  of  this  piece  of  ill  luck  before? " 

Mr.  Draper  had  heard  of  the  circumstance.  "  Bad 
news  travel  quick,  Mr.  Warrington,"  he  said ;  "  and  I 
was  eager  to  offer  my  humble  sei*vices  as  soon  as  ever 
you  should  require  them.  Your  friends,  your  family, 
will  be  much  pained  that  a  gentleman  of  your  rank 
should  be  in  such  a  position." 

"  I  have  been  very  imprudent,  Mr.  Draper.  I  have 
lived  beyond  my  means."     (Mr.  Draper  bowed.)     "I 


620  THE  VIRGINIANS 

played  in  company  with  gentlemen  who  were  much 
richer  than  myself,  and  a  cursed  run  of  ill  luck 
has  carried  away  all  my  ready-money,  leaving  me 
with  liabilities  to  the  amount  of  five  hundred  pounds, 
and  more." 

"  Five  hundred  now  in  the  office,"  says  Mr.  Draper. 

"  Well,  this  is  such  a  trifle  that  I  thought  by  sending 
to  one  or  two  friends,  yesterday,  I  could  have  paid  my 
debt  and  gone  home  without  farther  to  do.  I  have  been 
mistaken;  and  will  thank  you  to  have  the  kindness  to 
put  me  in  the  way  of  raising  the  money,  as  soon  as 
may  be." 

Mr.  Draper  said  *'  H'm !  "  and  pulled  a  very  grave  and 
long  face.  I 

"Why,  sir,  it  can  be  done!"  says  Mr.  Warrington, 
staring  at  the  lawyer. 

It  not  only  could  be  done,  but  Mr.  Draper  had  pro- 
posed to  Madame  Bernstein  on  the  day  before  instantly 
to  pay  the  money,  and  release  Mr.  Warrington.  That 
lady  had  declared  she  intended  to  make  the  young  gen- 
tleman her  heir.  In  common  with  the  rest  of  the  world. 
Draper  believed  Harry's  hereditary  property  in  Vir- 
ginia to  be  as  great  in  money-value  as  in  extent.  He 
had  notes  in  his  pockets,  and  Madame  Bernstein's  order 
to  pay  them  under  certain  conditions :  nevertheless,  when 
Harry  said,  "  It  can  be  done! "  Draper  pulled  his  long 
face,  and  said,  "  It  can  be  done  in  time,  sir;  but  it  will 
require  a  considerable  time.  To  touch  the  property  in 
England  which  is  yours  on  Mr.  George  Warrington's 
death  we  must  have  the  event  proved,  the  trustees  re- 
leased: and  who  is  to  do  either?  Lady  Esmond  War- 
rington in  Virginia,  of  course,  will  not  allow  her  son 
to  remain  in  prison,  but  we  must  wait  six  months  before 


THE  VIRGINIANS  621 

we  hear  from  her.  Has  your  Bristol  agent  any  author- 
.ity  to  honour  your  drafts?  " 

"  He  is  only  authorised  to  pay  me  two  hundred 
pounds  a  year,"  says  Mr.  Warrington.  "  I  suppose  I 
have  no  resource,  then,  but  to  apply  to  my  aunt,  Madame 
de  Bernstein?    She  will  be  my  security." 

"  Her  ladyship  will  do  anything  for  you,  sir;  she 
has  said  so  to  me,  often  and  often,"  said  the  lawyer; 
"  and,  if  she  gives  the  word,  at  that  moment  you  can 
walk  out  of  this  place." 

"  Go  to  her,  then,  from  me,  Mr.  Draper.  I  did 
not  want  to  have  troubled  my  relations:  but  rather 
than  continue  in  this  horrible  needless  imprisonment,  I 
must  speak  to  her.  Say  where  I  am,  and  what  has 
befallen  me.  Disguise  nothing!  And  tell  her,  that  I 
confide  in  her  affection  and  kindness  for  me  to  release 
me  from  this — this  disgrace,"  and  Mr.  Warrington's 
voice  shook  a  little,  and  he  passed  his  hand  across  his 
eyes. 

"  Sir,"  says  Mr.  Draper,  eyeing  the  young  man,  "  I 
was  with  her  ladyship  yesterday,  when  we  talked  over 
the  whole  of  this  here  most  unpleasant — I  won't  say  as 
you  do,  disgraceful  business." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  Does  Madame  de  Bern- 
stein know  of  my  misfortune?  "  asked  Harry. 

*'  Every  circumstance,  sir;  the  pawning  the  watches, 
and  all." 

Harry  turned  burning  red.  "  It  is  an  unfortunate 
business,  the  pawning  them  watches  and  things  which 
you  had  never  paid  for,"  continued  tlic  lawyer.  The 
young  man  started  up  from  the  bed,  looking  so  fierce 
that  Draper  felt  a  little  alarmed. 

"  It  may  lead  to  litigation  and  unpleasant  remarks 


622  THE  VIRGINIANS 

being  made  in  court,  sir.    Them  barristers  respect  noth- 
ing; and  when  they  get  a  feller  in  the  box—" 

"  Great  heaven,  sir,  you  don't  suppose  a  gentleman  of 
my  rank  can't  take  a  watch  upon  credit  without  intend- 
ing to  cheat  the  tradesman?  "  cried  Harry,  in  the  great- 
est agitation. 

"  Of  course  you  meant  everything  that's  honourable; 
only,  you  see,  the  law  mayn't  happen  to  think  so,"  says 
Mr.  Draper,  winking  his  eye.  "(Hang  the  supercilious 
beast!  I  touch  him  there!)  Your  aunt  says  it's  the 
most  imprudent  thing  ever  she  heard  of— to  call  it  by 
no  xicorse  name." 

"  You  call  it  by  no  worse  name  yourself,  Mr. 
Draper?"  says  Harry,  speaking  each  word  very  slow, 
and  evidently  trying  to  keep  a  command  of  himself. 

Draper  did  not  like  his  looks.  "  Heaven  forbid  that 
I  should  say  anything  as  between  gentleman  and  gen- 
tleman,—but  between  me  and  my  client,  it's  my  duty 
to  say,  '  Sir,  you  are  in  a  very  unpleasant  scrape,'  just 
as  a  doctor  would  have  to  tell  his  patient,  *  Sir,  you  are 
very  ill.'  " 

"  And  you  can't  help  me  to  pay  this  debt  off,- and 
you  have  come  only  to  tell  me  that  I  may  be  accused  of 
roguery?  "  says  Harry. 

"  Of  obtaining  goods  under  false  pretences?  Most 
undoubtedly,  yes.  I  can't  help  it,  sir.  Don't  look  as  if 
you  would  knock  me  down.  ( Curse  him,  I  am  making 
him  wince,  though. )  A  young  gentleman,  who  has  only 
two  hundred  a  year  from  his  Ma,  orders  diamonds  and 
watches,  and  takes  'em  to  a  pawnbroker.  You  ask  me 
what  people  will  think  of  such  behaviour,  and  I  tell  you 
honestly.    Don't  be  angry  with  me,  Mr.  Warrington.'* 

"  Go  on,  sir! "  says  Harry,  with  a  groan. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  623 

The  lawyer  thought  the  day  was  his  own.  "  But  you 
ask  if  I  can't  help  to  pay  this  debt  off?  And  I  say  Yes 
— and  that  here  is  the  money  in  my  pocket  to  do  it  now, 
if  you  like— not  mine,  sir,  my  honoured  client's,  your 
aunt.  Lady  Bernstein.  But  she  has  a  right  to  impose 
her  conditions,  and  I've  brought  'em  with  me." 

"  Tell  them,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Harry. 

"  They  are  not  hard.  They  are  only  for  your  own 
good ;  and  if  you  say  Yes,  we  can  call  a  hackney-coach, 
and  go  to  Clarges  Street  together,  which  I  have  prom- 
ised to  go  there,  whether  you  will  or  no.  Mr.  Warring- 
ton, I  name  no  names,  but  there  was  a  question  of  mar- 
riage between  you  and  a  certain  party." 

"  Ah!  "  said  Harry;  and  his  countenance  looked  more 
cheerful  than  it  had  yet  done. 

"  To  that  marriage  my  noble  client,  the  Baroness,  is 
most  averse — having  other  views  for  you,  and  thinking 
it  will  be  5^our  ruin  to  marry  a  party, — of  noble  birth  and 
title  it  is  true :  but,  excuse  me,  not  of  first-rate  character, 
and  so  much  older  than  yourself.  You  had  given  an  im- 
prudent promise  to  that  party." 

"  Yes;  and  she  has  it  still,"  says  Mr.  Warrington. 

*'  It  has  been  recovered.  She  dropped  it  by  an  acci- 
dent at  Tunbridge,"says  Mr.  Draper.  "So  my  client  in- 
formed me;  indeed  her  ladyship  showed  it  me,  for  the 
matter  of  that.    It  was  wrote  in  bl — " 

"  Never  mind,  sir!  "  cries  Henry,  turning  almost  as 
red  as  the  ink  which  he  had  used  to  write  his  absurd 
promise,  of  which  the  madness  and  folly  had  smote  him 
with  shame  a  thousand  times  over. 

"  At  the  same  time  letters,  wrote  to  you,  and  com- 
promising a  noble  family,  were  recovered,"  continues 
the  lawyer.     "  You  had  lost  'em.     It  was  no  fault  of 


624  THE  VIRGINIANS 

yours.  You  were  away  when  they  were  found  again. 
You  may  say  that  that  noble  family,  that  you  yourself, 
have  a  friend  such  as  few  young  men  have.  Well,  sir, 
there's  no  earthly  promise  to  bind  you — only  so  many 
idle  words  said  over  a  bottle,  which  very  likely  any  gen- 
tleman may  forget.  Say  you  won't  go  on  with  this 
marriage — give  me  and  my  noble  friend  your  word  of 
honour.  Cry  oiF,  I  say,  Mr.  W. !  Don't  be  such  a  d — 
fool,  saving  your  presence,  as  to  marry  an  old  woman 
who  has  jilted  scores  of  men  in  her  time.  Say  the  word, 
and  I  step  down  stairs,  pay  every  shilling  against  you 
in  the  office,  and  put  you  down  in  my  coach,  either  at 
your  aunt's  or  at  White's  Club,  if  you  like,  with  a  couple 
of  hundred  in  your  pocket.  Say  yes ;  and  give  us  your 
hand!  There's  no  use  in  sitting  grinning  behind  these 
bars  all  day! " 

So  far  Mr.  Draper  had  had  the  best  of  the  talk. 
Harry  only  longed  himself  to  be  rid  of  the  engagement 
from  which  his  aunt  wanted  to  free  him.  His  foolish 
flame  for  Maria  Esmond  had  died  out  long  since.  If 
she  would  release  him,  how  thankful  would  he  be! 
*'  Come!  give  us  your  hand,  and  say  done!  "  says  the 
lawyer,  with  a  knowing  wink.  "  Don't  stand  shilly- 
shallying, sir.  Law  bless  you,  Mr.  W.,  if  I  had  married 
everybody  I  promised,  I  should  be  like  the  Grand  Turk, 
or  Captain  Macheath  in  the  play!  " 

The  lawyer's  familiarity  disgusted  Harry,  who 
shrank  from  Draper,  scarcely  knowing  that  he  did  so. 
He  folded  his  dressing-gown  round  him,  and  stepped 
back  from  the  other's  proffered  hand.  "  Give  me  a  little 
time  to  think  of  the  matter,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Draper," 
he  said,  "  and  have  the  goodness  to  come  to  me  again  in 
an  hour." 


•-<J- 


THE  VIRGINIANS  625 

"Very  good,  sir,  very  good,  sir!"  says  the  lawyer, 
biting  his  lips,  and,  as  he  seized  up  his  hat,  turning  very 
red.  "  JNIost  parties  would  not  want  an  hour  to  consider 
about  such  an  offer  as  I  make  you:  but  I  suppose  my 
time  must  be  yours,  and  I'll  come  again,  and  see  whether 
you  are  to  go  or  to  stay.  Good  morning,  sir — good 
morning."  And  he  went  his  way,  growling  curses  down 
the  stairs.  "  Won't  take  my  hand,  won't  he?  Will  tell 
me  in  an  hour's  time!  Hang  his  impudence!  I'll  show 
him  what  an  hour  is!  " 

JNIr.  Draper  went  to  his  chambers  in  dudgeon  then; 
bullied  his  clerks  all  round,  sent  off  a  messenger  to  the 
Baroness,  to  say  that  he  had  waited  on  the  young  gen- 
tleman, who  had  demanded  a  little  time  for  considera- 
tion, which  was  for  form's  sake,  as  he  had  no  doubt.  The 
lawyer  then  saw  clients,  transacted  business,  went  out 
to  his  dinner  in  the  most  leisurely  manner;  and  then 
finally  turned  his  steps  towards  the  neighbouring  Cursi- 
tor  Street.  "  He'll  be  at  home  when  I  call,  the  haughty 
beast!"  says  Draper,  with  a  sneer.  "The  Fortunate 
Youth  in  his  room?  "  the  lawyer  asked  of  the  sheriff's 
officer's  aide-de-camp  who  came  to  open  the  double 
doors. 

"  Mr.  Warrington  is  in  his  apartment,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman; "  but — "  and  here  the  gentleman  winked  at  Mr. 
Draper,  and  laid  his  hand  on  his  nose. 

"  But  what,  Mr.  Paddy  from  Cork?  "  said  the  lawyer. 

"  Me  name  is  Costigan ;  me  f amilee  is  noble,  and  me 
neetive  place  is  the  Irish  methrawpolis,  Mr.  Six-and- 
Eightpence!  "  said  tlie  Janitor,  scowling  at  Draper.  A 
rich  odour  of  spirituous  liquors  filled  the  little  space 
between  the  double  doors  where  he  held  the  attorney  in 
conversation. 


626  THE  VIRGINIANS 

"  Confound  you,  sir,  let  me  pass!"  bawled  out  Mr. 
Draper.  i 

"  I  can  hear  you  perfectly  well,  Six-and-Eightpence,  1 

except  your  h's,  which  you  dthrop  out  of  your  conversa- 
tion. I'll  thank  ye  not  to  call  neems,  me  good  friend,  or 
me  fingers  and  your  nose  will  have  to  make  an  intimate 
hic-quaintance.  Walk  in,  sir !  Be  polite  for  the  future 
to  your  shupariors  in  birth  and  manners,  though  they 
me  be  your  infariors  in  temporary  station.  Confound 
the  kay!  Walk  in,  sir,  I  say!—  Madam,  I  have  the 
honour  of  saluting  ye  most  respectfully!  " 

A  lady  with  her  face  covered  with  a  capuchin,  and 
further  hidden  by  her  handkerchief,  uttered  a  little  ex- 
clamation as  of  alarm  as  she  came  down  the  stairs  at 
this  instant  and  hurried  past  the  lawyer.  He  was  press- 
ing forward  to  look  at  her— for  Mr.  Draper  was  very 
cavalier  in  his  manners  to  women— but  the  bailiff's  fol- 
lower thrust  his  leg  between  Draper  and  the  retreating 
lady,  crying,  "  Keep  your  own  distance,  if  you  plaise! 
This  way.  Madam !  I  at  once  recognized  your  ladysh— " 
Here  he  closed  the  door  on  Draper's  nose,  and  left  that 
attorney  to  find  his  own  way  to  his  client  up  stairs.  | 

At  six  o'clock  that  evening  the  old  Baroness  de  Bern- 
stein was  pacing  up  and  down  her  drawing  room,  and 
for  ever  running  to  the  window  when  the  noise  of  a  coach 
was  heard  passing  Clarges  Street.  She  had  delayed  her 
dinner  from  hour  to  hour:  she  who  scolded  so  fiercely, 
on  ordinary  occasions,  if  her  cook  was  five  minutes  after 
his  time.  She  had  ordered  two  covers  to  be  laid,  plate 
to  be  set  out,  and  some  extra  dishes  to  be  prepared  as  if 
for  a  little  fete.  Four— five  o'clock  passed,  and  at  six 
she  looked  from  the  window,  and  a  coach  actually 
stopped  at  her  door. 


THE  VIRGINIANS  627 

"  Mr.  Draper  "  was  announced,  and  entered,  bowing 
•profoundly. 

The  old  lady  trembled  on  her  stick.  "  Where  is  the 
boy? "  she  said  quickly.  "  I  told  you  to  bring  him,  sir! 
How  dare  you  come  without  him?  " 

"  It  is  not  my  fault,  Madam,  that  Mr.  Warrington 
refuses  to  come."  And  Draper  gave  his  version  of  the 
interview  which  had  just  taken  place  between  himself 
and  the  young  Virginian. 


>^ 


-js- 


rNIVFRS 


■^OR  LIBRARY 


3  1158  00871  6846 


a        1 


^ 


PR 
t^^20 

n 

1923 
v.l 


SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACIUTV 


AA    000  372  537    i 


I.'   : iiTTTTTTTTTT 


yi'jT"^^ 


i«M 


"^"^4 


».. 


-  flHr^ 

9£^GwP 

i 

^^■a*IKw'^-^K.       ^^k' 

i^^Slo 

<U4*. 


«Jt« 


■J      5.>  /i.«»' 

4 

i.* 

•»,-ii?l_€ 

-^*v^f^C;« 


^■vvv^-^-^ 


V<i  J« 


^-  n.*3l 


ijf ''/ 


